His Fiery Little Fire
by AmeliaDarkholme
Summary: Their relationship was an odd one. Even more than Jacob's with Emma. What those two had seemed a lot more normal than theirs – and that was saying something.
1. Enoch O'Connor

**NOTES 1:** I like the books, obviously _._ And although there are things that I don't like about the movie, I still like it. _A lot._ I wrote this story because it's something my friend Fifi asked me to as a belated birthday present. She wanted a movieverse Enoch/Olive story. At first, I got a little confused because, despite the amount of screen time together, very little was explained about the two. In fact, other than Enoch being portrayed as an emo, angst-ridden teen (which Fin Macmillan did rather brilliantly, I think), he nearly had no interaction at all with other characters. So then my wonderful sister suggested that I should just do what Tim did – which is to ignore almost _all_ other facts from the books and just write what I wanted to write. After all, this story _is_ a fanfiction. There are things that are _completely_ off-canon from what was in the books, and I meant it that way for the sake of the story. If you guys don't like it, feel free to read other stories that you prefer more than my story. If you do, I'm glad that you do. And oh, Fifi, happy birthday!

* * *

 _"My past has tasted bitter for years now,  
So I wield an iron fist  
Grace is just weakness  
Or so I've been told.  
I've been cold, I've been merciless  
But the blood on my hands scares me to death  
Maybe I'm waking up today."_

 ** _\- I'll Be Good,_** _Jaymes Young_

Their relationship was an odd one. Even more than Jacob's with Emma. What those two had seemed a lot more normal than theirs – and that was saying something, since he dated a woman who was technically his grandfather's ex-girlfriend. But seeing that Emma still looked like she was only sixteen instead of somewhere around ninety, it didn't really seem all that weird. After all, judging from the way they sucked each other's face on _hourly_ basis, and all the suspicious amount of time they spent together when no one was watching, their relationship was just as gross any other relationship. Meaning, despite their Peculiarity, they were actually pretty _normal._

Unlike Enoch and Olive.

The boy who didn't like to touch and the girl who couldn't touch.

 _("I'm so sorry, Olive. All these years, I never appreciated you. I didn't see how lucky I was. I got used to having you there, I never realised…")_

He was a hundred and seventeen and he was _still_ none the wiser.

 _("Why are you always so mean to me, Enoch? What did I do wrong?")_

Letting out a frustrated scream, Enoch smashed his hand on his clay dolls violently.

* * *

Enoch was only seventeen when he escaped his parents' basement with a broken hand, a bruised face, and his back full of whips. He no longer remembered why the beating started in the first place, but he was sure his phobia of touch began right then. He ran aimlessly, his legs could barely carry him after a few hours, but he knew he couldn't afford to stop, lest his parents (read: his father) sent people to go after him. It was after two days when he could take no more, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fell face first to the ground. But before he could feel the harsh ground kissing his face, a hand had caught him. It was Miss Peregrine. He was a lot taller than she was, but he was so emaciated that she nearly had little to no problem at all when she tried to pull him onto a wagon. After she made sure that he was tucked safely under the blankets, hidden from curious eyes, the Bird urged her horses to take her and her first child to safety of her loop.

It took Enoch six months to recover from his wounds, and once he was deemed wholly healed by the headmistress, the necromancer wasted no time and immediately began to help around the mansion. For the next five years, it was only the two of them taking care of the big house. They rarely talked, though it wasn't for lack of trying on Miss Peregrine's part. She _did_ try; always making small talks with him during breakfast, lunch, dinner, and when they were doing their chores. But after seventeen years living with his parents, seven of those years spent in fear of what his father would do to him because of his Peculiarity, made it hard for Enoch to open up to Miss Peregrine. It didn't help that for the first three years, whenever the headmistress touched the boy, accidentally or not, he would jump about a foot into the air before avoiding the woman for the whole day. He was trying hard though, he tried to at least stop flinching whenever Miss Peregrine touched him, albeit briefly. He still wasn't good with talking, still prefering the company of his clays, but that was a start.

It was on his fifth year when Miss Peregrine brought home two new comers. It was the super-strong siblings, Victor and Bronwyn. Victor was seventeen while his younger sister was only ten. When they were introduced, Enoch learned that the two lived with their evil step-father who had a hobby of beating up Victor before bed time. One day, Bronwyn saw the man hurt her brother, and in her anger, she snapped the man's neck. They were on the run from the town's people when they ran into Miss Peregrine. Just like Enoch was, the woman took the children under her care, taking them into her loop so they would be safe. Victor didn't talk much, and he was just as damaged as Enoch was, so they got along rather well after sometime. Poor Bronwyn though, her only playmate was the clay doll Enoch made for her. But the girl cherished it and she never complained about the lack of children her age. When she wrapped her tiny arms around Enoch to express her gratitude, it was the first time the moody necromancer didn't pull back when someone touched him.

And for the next two decades, that was his only physical contact.

* * *

"Emma is angry, you know," Jacob told him as the two of them were fixing everything that was broken about the ship. "You've to be thankful that she's not the one with the fire power, or else she'd probably incinerate you into bits."

"Your girlfriend is _always_ angry at me, Jakey," Enoch commented off-handedly as he hammered down the nail onto the broken chair. "It's hardly new."

If the boy was annoyed at the nickname, he did a great job at hiding and instead, continued with his incessant questions. "Why did you do it anyway? Bronwyn told me what happened back at the theatre. She said you were distraught when – "

 _("One day, you will be so sorry, Enoch O'Connor.")_

"Always with the questions," Enoch snapped, swinging his hammer a little too hard, he ended up breaking the chair all over again. Cursing under his breath, he said, "Will you shut up already? Just because I agreed to have you helping me doesn't mean we're friends all of the sudden."

"Oh, I would never go that far," Jacob said, his usually kind voice sounded cold and cruel. "I know you don't need friends. After all, death is your _only_ friend, right?"

When the younger boy left, Enoch noticed that he'd never felt so _alone_ before.

 _(But that is what you want, isn't it, boy?)_

 _(Shut up.)_

* * *

When the twins came, Enoch was finally feeling a little suffocated with all the routines and schedules the Bird had. It had been ten years since she rescued him, and altough he would forever be grateful about it, he couldn't help but to feel exhausted. On the rare times they were allowed out of the loop to go get something from the market, Enoch felt a huge pang whenever he saw how normal people were living their lives without having the fear of being abused by their own family like he was or the siblings were, or chased out of their town like the twins were. If he was a normal person, he would probably have a family of his own by then. He could be a doctor too – he'd always been a smart one since he was a kid. When he saw just how much he'd lost, by the time they got back into the mansion, he spent the whole day locked up in his room, creating dolls of a family of four. He would watch emotionlessly when the clay-children ran all over his room, while the clay-parents tried to make their children behave. In the end though, he would kick them across the room, destroying them into a hundred pieces before he left for dinner.

He rarely talked to Victor other than discussing how _tiring_ their chores were, or making a guess about how _old_ exactly their headmistress was. But one time, his head was so messed up that before he could properly process the thought, the question had slipped out of his mouth, catching Victor off guard that it made Enoch's cheeks tainted red a bit once he realised what he'd done.

"Have you ever thought about growing up?" Enoch had asked one day.

"Excuse me?" Victor said, cocking an eye brow. The necromancer was so embarrassed that the little red marks on his cheeks had gone into a full blown blush. But it had happened, so there was no point on pretending it didn't.

"Have you ever thought of living a life as a normal? Of having a family of your own?"

It took Victor a few seconds to answer, shrugging when he finally spoke again. "No, not really. I mean, my children or grandchildren would inherit my Peculiarity, right? If they would have to live in fear for their whole life, it would be better if I stayed a kid forever. I wouldn't want to subject my children to the life I have now."

"Fine. You don't want children. But don't you ever wish of having a _real_ life? Out of the loop, where you could have a proper job, have a girlfriend maybe."

"Nah, I don't. My place is here, mate. With you, my sister, the twins, and Miss P. Besides, growing up never seem so interesting to me. All the responsibilities? No, thank you."

That was the end of their discussion. Enoch never mentioned the question to anyone again, not even to Victor. In fact, he never thought about growing up again for a long time.

He only did when he held a lifeless Victor in his arms, yelling for Miss Peregrine to come.

 _("Bring him back! Bring him back, Enoch, please!")_

The way Bronwyn sobbed her pleas would forever haunt him.

* * *

Before his power manifested, there was a time when Enoch imagined himself to be a sailor. He often pictured himself sailing the seas, travelling the world and seeing all the wonders the world could offer to him. But then _it_ happened, the day he found he could animate things to life, and all his dreams were crushed into smitherens. He never thought that a century later, he would be steering the wheel of a huge ship that had sunk probably during the first world war. He would have felt a little giddy at the thought if it wasn't for what had transpired in the past forty-eight hours since they defeated Barron. Althought he was probably the smartest one in their little family, he always knew he was the biggest _idiot_ among all the kids.

"There you are," a voice said, surprising him a little. Looking over his shoulder, he found Bronwyn entered the room, holding hands with little Claire. "I've been looking for you for hours."

"Hello, Brownwyn, Claire. To what do I owe you the pleasure of your company?" Enoch said in a bored tone without taking his eyes off the vast sea in front of him. He truly did not see it coming when he felt Bronwyn's powerful fist dug into his ribs, causing the wind to knock out of his lungs. Coughing in a fit, he said, "What the _bloody hell_ was that for?"

"For making Olive cry. _Again,_ " Bronwyn said, rolling her eyes in exasperation because she obviously believed Enoch was stupid for asking that question. Judging from the way Claire was nodding her head, he knew the sentiment was shared between the two girls.

"Well, you don't have to be abusive about it," the necromancer said, rolling his eyes as he rubbed his wounded side.

"You deserve it," Claire said. The sound of teeth grinding on the back of her head told Enoch that if he were to put his hand there, her back-mouth would chop his hand off.

"Honestly, Enoch. This fear you have is irrational. We always know how she feels about you. There's no point of you doubting it. Especially now that we no longer living in the loop," Brownwyn said, sighing heavily in a way that reminded Enoch the girl was the second oldest kid after himself.

"All the more reason why we won't work," Enoch remarked. Running a hand through his hair, he suddenly felt so exhausted he could just drop on his feet anytime. He hadn't been asleep for two days, and his energy was depleted greatly with him having to keep those skeletons going to help around the ship. It was a miracle he hadn't passed out yet.

That was just physically. Mentally? He'd been exhausted for _decades._

"You're a good person, Enoch. Even though you're a big grump for most of the time, you're always there for us. Now, it's time for you to let someone in because you need it. You have _always_ needed it," Claire said, her juvenile voice was the only thing that betrayed her true age.

"You've nearly lost her. Don't make the same mistake twice," Brownwyn added, and her words felt like a huge slap in his face.

His grip on the wheel tightened as images of Olive's cold body flashed in his mind. Death wasn't something new to Enoch. After all, his idea of fun time was to reanimate corpses. He never minded death before because it felt like the only constant thing about life. Death was fair because in the end, _everyone_ would always die, even peculiars who lived in the loop. There was no cheating death. But when he saw Olive's unmoving figure and felt how lifeless she was, he no longer liked death. Inside of him, his cold and black heart that only beat for his fiery little fire felt like it stopped beating along with Olive's. He didn't realise when his breathing started to go erratic as his mind kept on torturing him with the possibility of living a life without Olive. His head that had been pouding for hours because of the amount of time he forced himself to keep all those skeletons alive was now killing him. His chest, where his heart resided, was hurting so bad as if it was punctured by a thousand needles. Enoch vaguely heard Claire's voice talking to him, felt Bronwyn's hand pulling on the hem of his sweater. But as he felt something wet rolled down his nose, he lost what little left of his energy and fainted.

The last thing he remembered was Olive's beautiful voice calling out his name.

* * *

He was forty when the girls came. Emma and Olive; the girl who was lighter than air and the girl who could summon fire in the palm of her hand. They were both only sixteen back then, much too _young_ for him. They met in a circus where their parents sold of them, no longer able to deal with their Peculiarities. The girls ran away together once they learned that they weren't the only ones with powers, and they were on the run for a whole week before Miss Peregrine found them. He was just showing his newest creation to Victor when the Bird called for them, saying that they, Bronwyn and the twins were to welcome the new members. With each hand being held by the twins while the super-strong siblings following behind him, also holding hands, he went down to the living room with a permanent scowl on his face, annoyed that his 'play time' was interrupted. However, the moment Enoch saw the two of them sitting in the large sofa by the fireplace, dutifully drinking their hot coco that Miss P had made for them, he lost his scowl and was frozen in place, as if the twins had just petrified him. His attention was immediately set on the girl with her fiery red hair and stunning green eyes. The girl was pretty, but not in the way that would make people stop and stare at her. Compared to her blonde friend, she looked rather plain. But for some reason, _she_ was the one who caught his attention. When she greeted him with a shy hello, looking up at him with her pretty green eyes, completely ignoring the way her friend was nudging on the ribs to _not_ feel attached already to anyone, Enoch could only nod his head stiffly without taking her glove-covered hand. He vaguely noticed that the blonde one was introducing herself, but his ears were buzzing and the only thing he had in mind was how _delicate_ the redheaded one looked.

He found the irony that someone so vulnerable-looking had the power to destroy everything with the simple touch of her hand. Enoch was so lost in thought he barely realised when Miss Peregrine told him to take the girls up and show them to their room. It took Bronwyn pinching hard on his hand for him to finally snap out of his reverie, before nodding at the girls to follow him to their rooms. The blonde girl, Emma was her name, merely muttered her thanks to him and quickly entered her room. It was obvious that she was still traumatised and probably would find it a little hard to trust people so easily. The redhead though, _Olive,_ was another story. After Enoch dropped her to her room, he was about to turn to his own room, when he felt a hand around his wrist. For the second time that night, he froze like a statue, although for different reason. Apparently, the girl noticed his reaction toward her little gesture, and hastily dropped his hand as if she could set it on fire through her glove. From the way she fidgeted, Enoch could see that she probably thought he feared she would burn him to crisps.

"I'm sorry," she said in a rush. "I didn't mean to overstep or anything. I just…I just wanted to say thank you. You turned around so quickly I was worried you'd be gone before I had the chance to tell you that. I promise I wouldn't touch without permission the next time."

In his head, Enoch wanted to say, "It's okay. You have nothing to worry. I'm not worried about you setting me up on fire. In fact, feel free to do so because I've been feeling dead for so long. I was just surprised to feel your hand on mine. You see, it's been over a decade since the last time anyone really touched me that I forgot what it felt like to feel someone's hand other than mine."

But, so typical of him, the words that escaped his lips were, "Next time you want to talk to me, just do it without touching me."

The look on Olive's face was so sad that he suddenly felt the urge to apologise. Unfortunately, Enoch was Enoch, and instead of saying sorry, he merely sneered at the girl and hurried off to his room.

When he finally relented to Victor's nagging and told him about it, the other boy laughed at him.

Prick.

* * *

His head was still hurting, his heart was beating madly in his chest, and he felt like all the bones in his body had been melted off. There was so much noise all around him, had it not been for the fact that he felt like _dying,_ he would be tempted to snap at them to shut their trap. There was someone wiping the sweat on his forehead with a washcloth, and he unconsiously hummed in contempt at the cool feeling the washcloth gave. In an instance, all the noises died down and he realised that by making a sound, he'd alerted them about his state of awake. Enoch knew that he had to wake up sooner or later, so he decided that he should just get done with it. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened his eyes. What usually was such a simple task to do suddenly felt ridiculously difficult. It felt like his eyelids were glued shut, and it took great effort for him to finally be able to pry them open. At first, all he saw was blurry figures as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. After a few seconds, he slowly began to see who were in the room with him. Standing across his bed, leaning by the door, was Jacob with Emma by his side. The obnoxious couple looked at him with an unreadable look in their eyes though they said nothing. From behind them, he saw the twins, Hugh, and Fiona, peeking in between the gap Jacob and Emma created. A little to the left was Miss Peregrine with Bronwyn and Fiona, the first one looking at him seriously while the girls looked at him in worry. On the right side of the room was Horace and Millard, for once the two of them were quiet instead of bickering. Lastly, sitting by his bed side, was Olive.

"And the Sleeping Beauty has finally awaken! You okay, princess?" Millard exclaimed. Despite his annoyingly loud voice, Enoch was thankful for his initiative to break the awkward silence with his usual ill-timedly jokes.

"Sleeping Beauty? I think he's more like the Prince of the Underworld," Horace quips.

"Yeah!" Hugh cheekily commented, slapping his hand on Fiona's extended one.

"Miss Bloom, Mr Portman," the Bird said, shushing the kids immediately. "Will you please take the children to the kitchen? We need all the help we have to finish our dinner."

"Alright, Miss Peregrine," Jacob said, nodding his head obediently. "You heard her, kids. Now, come on. We've got loads to do."

The children started to groan in protest. But when Emma aimed a well-practised glare at them, they said nothing more and followed the two teenagers in the direction of the kitchen. The only ones left in his room were Miss Peregrine and Olive, who had left her initial position and was busying herself preparing tea on the teapot by his nightstand. Enoch was watching the girl closely, sort of hoping to catch her eyes because he _missed her,_ when he felt the bed dipped beside him, signaling that the headmistress had taken a seat on his bed. Albeit unwillingly, he took his gaze off Olive and turned to look at the ymbryne. Those hypnotice blue-grey eyes of hers were looking deeply into his brown ones, and despite his old age of a hundred and seventeen, whenever the woman looked at him that, he felt very much like the beaten down seventeen year old that she saved all those years ago.

"How are you feeling, Enoch?" Miss Peregrine asked, her voice had taken that smooth and consoling tone she always had when she was soothing Bronwyn after she had her nightmares about Victor.

"My head's killing me," Enoch admitted in a small voice, his throat felt dry and sore. "And I don't think I can move for the next few hours."

"Of course. You forced yourself too hard today, keeping all those skeletons going for house without resting. In case you were wondering, when you dropped unconscious back in the control room, you had a cardiac arrest. You were dead for about…" she took a brief glance at her pocket watch. "Ten minutes. We thought we'd lost you, when you suddenly took healthy gulps of air. It was a miracle."

"Wait, _what?"_ Enoch asked, completely baffled. "What…what do you mean by dead?"

Miss Peregrine was about to answer him when Olive slammed the lid of the teapot a little too hard. Whipping his head in her direction, he saw that she'd looked at him first, and she had tears in those beautiful green eyes of hers. "She meant _exactly_ what it is, Enoch. You were dead. You stopped breathing and your heart wasn't beating. For ten minutes, you were dead. For ten minutes, you _left._ "

"Olive," Miss Peregrine began, but the girl had lifted her hand up to cut the woman off.

"He _has_ to know, Miss P," Olive said as tears kept on falling down her face. "He has to know that we _do_ care for him. He has to know that he _can't_ go around thinking that he's alone in this world, and that when he…when he dies, we will be beyond devastated – _I_ will be devastated."

There was so much that Enoch wanted to say to her, starting out with his long-overdue apology. But, of course, when he finally did, none of what he wanted to say were the words that came out of his mouth. Before he could stop himself, he said, "Stop being so dramatic, Olive. I'm not dead. So shut up and leave my room."

 _("You know what, O'Connor," Victor had said the morning before he was killed by the hollow. "You're a good man. The only problem with you is your stupid mouth. You're lucky that I know just how damaged you are. But one day, that mouth of yours is going to cost you everything. And don't punch me when I say 'I told you so'.")_

Olive stared at him with wide eyes, looking like he'd just slapped her on the face. He might as well, seeing just how ruthlessly he waved aside her as if she wasn't important to him. Choking back on her tears, the girl went running out of his room, sobbing all the way to where he heard Emma was worriedly asking her what happened. As he stared ahead blankly to where Olive just went, he knew that he had done it. He had pushed her too far and there was no way she was going to forgive him – _ever._ He could still hear her telling Emma everything, sobbing uncontrollably through her words, and with every teary breath she took, he felt his own heart broke.

 _(You're right, Victor. You're_ absolutely _right.)_

He heard Miss Peregine's heavy sigh from his left, and he realised that he nearly forgot she was there. Lifting herself off his bed, she then made his way toward his door. But before she left, she turned around one last time and said, "I am so disappointed in you, Enoch. I really am."

She closed the door behind him as she left, and Enoch felt like screaming. He wanted to scream his throat sore, until he ripped his cords and lost his voice. But instead, he just kept quiet, wishing that he'd died for the second time because really, he was sure that this time, no one would _care._

 _("Demon child, that's what you are, boy! No one will ever love you because you are cursed. Something this evil deserves nothing, especially not love. You are_ nothing. _")_

In his mind, Enoch was already dead.

* * *

When Abe left the loop, Enoch always knew that it was the beginning of their end. Or at least, the beginning of _his_ end. He never liked the bloke because he was worried that someday, the stupid Yank would leave Emma behind, and no doubt it would destory her. He felt like killing the boy when he saw how broken Emma was, feeling the brotherly protectiveness toward the boy. If it wasn't for Emma's own interference, he would have done it, probably would ask Victor to join him. As if it wasn't enough, not long after Abe's departure, another tragedy came. He and Victor had ventured a little too far from the safety of the mansion's walls when a hollow appeared out of nowhere and killed his friend. He wanted to reanimate Victor because he couldn't _stand_ Bronwyn crying and begging on his feet, asking him to bring back her brother. He would have done it, if it wasn't for Miss Peregrine insistence that if he did it, not only it was dangerous for Enoch's own life to do so, Victor wouldn't be fully alive. He argued the woman about it, something that he had never done in all the years he spent living under her care. But, in the back of his mind, he knew that she was right. Not only it would kill him, there was no guarantee that Victor would be the same. So, when Bronwyn came to him one more time, he told her that he couldn't do it. He almost didn't realise the lone tear that escaped him when he watched Bronwyn ran to her room, which led to her refusing to talk to him for the next two years.

It was during that period of time his weird relationship with Olive began. He was working tirelessly on a group of clay soldiers he envisioned would be some guard of sorts that would alert them of upcoming danger, when he heard a knock on the door. Grunting out a respond, he was a little surprised when Olive's head of red hair peeked over his door, looking nervously at him. He asked her what she wanted from him, and as she shyly stepped into his room, he noticed that she was holding a plate of cake with the number forty-five on it. It took him awhile to realise that the cake was meant for _him_ because it was his birthday _._ Not only it was nearly impossible to know the dates when you lived in the loop, there was also the fact that so much had happened in the past eleven months since Abe left them, that he ended up forgetting his own birthday. He was still staring at the cake when he realised Olive had taken a few steps forward that she was finally standing right in front of him. The girl was standing _so close_ to him, he could see the brown flecks in her green eyes. In all the five years he knew her, Enoch had never realised just how small she actually was. Even if she was to wear Emma's shoes, he would still tower over her. She was saying something, but for the life of him, he had no idea what she was saying. It took a couple tries until he finally caught on what she said.

"…told V-Victor how much you used to like chocolate cake," the girl said, her small voice was nearly inaudible to his ears. "So, I uh...I got the ingredients needed during the Raid, and tried to make you something edible. I- I hope you like it, Enoch."

He blinked once before nodding his head stiffly. "Um, okay. Just leave it over- _No!_ Don't put it there with the hearts! You'll get the cake all dirty. Go put it there, on the shelf with my books."

Olive nodded and obediently did as she was told. After she was done, she looked at him as if she wanted to say something. In return, Enoch cocked an eye brow, daring her to say whatever she had in her mind. He thought she was going to falter, like she always did when she was with him. Imagine his surprise when she took a deep breath, stilling herself to talk him. With a new air of confidence, she said, "If you want to, I can always help you with your projects. My chores start at ten-thirty, and I'll be done at exactly eleven o'clock. Come and get me whenever you need my help."

Before Enoch could say anything about it, she had left. For the whole day, the necromancer couldn't help but to think about her words. He wanted to say no to her offer, just to show that he did not need any help at all. But when the next day came and his watch told him that it was already eleven, he found himself making his way to Olive's room. He knocked on her door once, to which she answered in a snap. The smile on her face was blinding that Enoch nearly smiled as well. He knew he should have said something, but whatever words he had lost him. Therefore, he was so grateful when Olive merely nodded at him and waltzed out of her room, wordlessly motioning him to lead the way to his room. That was how his days went for the next seventy-three years until Jacob came. No one ever commented about it, even though he knew that Millard and Hugh, the two troublemakers, were probably dying to tease him about it. He suspected that it was Miss Peregrine's work, but honestly, he didn't really care.

"Don't get burnt, Enoch!" Bronwyn had said to him, her first words in two years since her brother's death. At that time, Enoch had no idea what she meant.

 _(Truth to be told, he still had none.)_

* * *

"You shouldn't be up and around so soon, you know," Emma said when she found him hidding in what used to be the cooler room for the meat. He had been trying to reanimate the skeletons for hours, but apparently he was still too weak. When Emma entered the room, he quickly hid his handkerchief in his pocket, praying that she didn't see the blood that had tainted the white fabric.

"I'm bored," he said, discreetly moving to lean on the metal wall of the ship because he barely had any energy left to prop himself up. "And I know everyone's mad at me right now, so this is my only entertainment."

"You're lucky it's me and not the Bird who found you here," Emma said, kicking the bones around so she could take a seat in front of him. "She would probably smack you if she saw you. I mean, you just _died_ about sixteen hours ago. If you try to do your magic again, you'd be dead before Miss P could kill you herself."

Enoch took a little too long to give a respond, and that led to Emma having the worst conclusion she could come up with. Gasping lightly, she said, " _That_ is what you're doing, right? You wanted to _die._ "

"What are you doing here, Em?" the necromancer asked, hoping to distract her. "Shouldn't you be romancing with your _darling_ Jacob? Don't let him found you here with me or else he'll think you're cheating on him."

But Emma was dubbed the most stubborn one in their little family for nothing. Scooting forward, she grabbed his face with her hands despite her knowing how he hated it when people touched him. He would have pushed her away if he wasn't so weak. He didn't even have the strength to flinch when the blonde accidentally pushed his head against the wall in surprise, which caused a dull thud to echo in the room. Obviously, she felt how cold skin was, and probably saw the trail of dry blood under his nose.

"What is wrong with you, my friend?" she whispered, and he saw how she was trying hard not to cry. "Tell me what's wrong, Enoch."

"Emma – "

 _"No,"_ the girl cut him off firmly. "When Abe left, you were there for me. You listened to me crying my guts out about how he broke my heart. You forced me to move on with my life, and even threatened to send me flying until I reached the clouds if I didn't eat. For years, you have been the rock that kept me, and everyone else, going."

"You're the sister I never had," Enoch said. "You _all_ are the sisters, and brothers, that I always wanted my whole life. I couldn't possibly let you all alone when that _git_ left you. You needed help."

" _You_ need help now. I can see you're hurting, Enoch. So, please, let me help you. Tell me what is wrong, and I promise, I'll help you the best I can."

"No. I don't think – "

 _"Brother, please."_

Those two words shocked Enoch to the core. In all his long life, he never thought he would ever be _someone_ other than the kid who could give life with his hands. It was probably what broke his resolve. Looking into Emma's hazel eyes, he realised that she was right. He sighed, feeling his one hundred and seventeen years of life finally catching up to him. He felt so, so _tired_ , and he wished everything would just…stop.

"Enoch?" Emma said, tilting her head to the side.

 _(Do it. Do it before it's too late, you idiot.)_

"I'm scared, you know," Enoch began, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Scared of what?"

"Of her leaving."

"Her as in…Olive?"

"Yeah. Because, in the end, everyone I love, _always_ ends up leaving me."

* * *

Even through the glove, Enoch could feel just how warm Olive's hand was. He had a feeling that it was because her power, but something in him was convinced that it got more to do with the fact that she was the only person in the whole universe who warmed his heart. As the both of them got on the ship, he caught the forlorn look on Emma's face, and it caused his grip to tighten around Olive's hand. She returned the gesture, as if she knew what was on his mind. They walked in silence as they headed to the control room, and he was grateful that all the children wisely kept their mouth shut when they saw them together. Enoch felt a little giddy at the thought that for the first time in a century, he finally had someone that he could call _his._ Once inside the control room, he made sure that all doors were locked before he turned to face Olive. _His_ Olive, his fiery little fire that took his breath a way. He took small steps toward the girl, stalking her until he cornered her against the wheel, keeping his eyes on her. Olive, for her part, merely smiled that angelic smile of hers as she bravely met his stare.

"Don't you think I should go and check the engines?" she asked, her breath hitched a little when she probably realised how close they were.

"You should," Enoch said, nodding his head slightly as he leaned closer until his lips were less than an inch from her ear. "But I want you here – _with me._ "

"Okay," Olive breathed. She blinked nervously at him when he pulled his head back a little before leaning forward again, this time aiming for her lips.

"Okay?" the necromancer whispered the request for permission, feeling her breath in his mouth.

"Okay."

He closed what little gap they had between them, kissing her lightly as not to scare her. For a split second, his mind flew back to the cold feeling of her lips against his when she was frozen, and he hastily chased the thought away. He was about to deepen the kiss when Olive pushed him gently. Holding back his protest, he couldn't help the growl that escaped him. But if Olive wanted to stop, he would do it for her.

"What is it?" he asked, feeling a little breathless. He was sure the sight of her just equally as breathless as he was should be _illegal_ because it got him thinking of less than gentlemanly thoughts.

"I…I don't know why but I think you should know that…that you are the first and only boy – _man,_ I've ever kissed in my entire life," she said shyly as her cheeks flushed red.

He vaguely noticed that she was still talking, but even though he'd long thought that his whole world revolved around her, he could care less what she was saying. All he could think of was that he was the _first_ and _only_ one that she ever kissed, and it did wonders to his low self-esteem. Suddenly, he found it annoying that she was still talking instead of kissing him. He _had_ to do something about that – and that was what he did. He kissed her again, this time more passionately than the previous one. He wrapped his arms around her delicate waist so he could pull her closer, needing to feel her as close as possible to him. It seemed that the girl was thinking about the same thing because at the same time, she buried her fingers in his mass of thick curls, pulling his head closer toward her. Enoch realised that he was probably around the same age as the oldest people in the world who lived in Jacob's era. But in the end, he _was_ only seventeen after all. As much as he hated to admit it, he did have the urges of a seventeen year old, no matter how long he'd been seventeen. The necromancer lost track of time about how long he'd been kissing Olive, when he felt her gloved fingers went under his collar and stroked a thick welt on his shoulder blade. Instantly, memories of his life prior to his living with Miss Peregrine flashed back in his mind like a movie.

He was only ten and he had a crush on a girl. She was a pretty little thing, with golden-blonde hair flowing down her back and blue eyes that captured his heart. Her name was Sarah. She was the daughter of a rich banker. The girl had everyone around her finger, himself included. But with a pang in his heart, Enoch realised that she wouldn't look at him twice, the son of an undertaker. So, when he found out that he could give life with only the touch of his hand, he was excited. Enoch was sure that now he had the chance to woo the girl because he was _special_. How wrong he was. Instead of finding his gift amazing when he brought back a corpse to life, she ran out of his house crying and telling her parents that he was scaring her with his evil magic. Obviously, her father went to see Enoch's parents, and he called them many bad names, practitioner of dark magic being one of them. Rumours traveled fast and soon, no one wanted Enoch's parents to care for their dead anymore. Of course, Enoch was to be blamed. His father locked the boy in the basement and beat him senseless. He was deaf to the boy's cries, going utterly mad with rage that the boy had completely ruined his business. His wife, Enoch's mother, could not stand the sight of her husband beating down their son. But Enoch knew, from the way she merely left the first aid kit for the boy to use on his own, instead of tending to his wounds herself, the woman blamed him as well.

Seven years he endured the abuse from his father, but it took him only a day to realise that in the end, everyone he cared, everyone he _loved,_ would leave him alone.

And so would his Olive.

Pushing the girl abruptly, he tried to look as unfeeling as possible when she fell down on the hard wooden floor. Olive looked up at him, her eyes wide in shock at the sudden change in him. It felt like a knife was stabbed in his heart when he sneered at her, but Enoch had decades of practise in hiding his true feelings. Before Olive could say anything, he quickly said, "You don't really think I _actually_ feel anything for you, right?"

" _What?_ " the pyromancer whispered. It took great effort for him to shut down his feelings when he saw tears started to brim in her eyes.

"Don't be stupid, Olive. It's the first time in _a hundred years_ for me to finally live outside of the loop. You really think that it's _you_?"

"I…I don't understand. I thought…"

"You thought what? You thought that I would really _love_ you? Olive, you're not that special, so don't get your hopes too high. Now that we're all finally free from the _prison_ Miss P created, I can get anyone."

Olive's eyes were always so expressive that if one were to know her true feelings, they only needed to look into her eyes and they could get all the answers. In all his seventy-seven years since he met her, those eyes were always alive with the fire of her happiness. But the more he talked, the more he broke her confidence with his cruel words, he saw how the fire died slowly. He wanted to take it back because the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Enoch wanted to tell her that _no,_ she was the most exquisite thing in his eyes, and that she meant the world to him. He was a coward, though. He was too scared that Olive would hurt him the way Sarah, his parents, and _everyone_ else did. However, he was caught off guard when Olive pulled herself to stand and defiantly looked into his eyes.

"You're lying," she said. "I know how good a liar you are, Enoch, but not even you could fake that genuine worry you showed back in the theatre when you thought I had _died._ "

"Then you don't know me at all," Enoch said with his taunting smile that he usually reserved only for the boys. "I have lived my whole life in lies, Olive dear. What makes you so sure that I am _not_ good enough to act like a bad person?"

"Because you are _not_ , Enoch. You are a _good_ person."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're being delusional. Please, get your head out of whatever stupid dream you have, Olive. It's very unattractive. I mean, the way you tail after me like a lost puppy, willing to take everything I dish out at you is pathetic. You _disgust_ me, Olive."

For good measure, Enoch made sure that he had a contempt look on his face to show how pleased he was for saying all those things to her. He cocked an eye brown when she merely stared him with tears running down profusely from her eyes, challenging her to say anything. If he were to do this to Emma, or Fiona, or even _Claire,_ there was no doubt that those girls would probably kill him painfully slow before throwing his body into the ocean. But his _(no longer yours, Enoch)_ Olive wasn't like that because she had a gentle heart and all around the kindest person he had ever known.

"Why are you _always_ so mean to me, Enoch? What did I do wrong?" she whispered. "It never mattered to me that you took everything for granted, that you always treated me poorly. It didn't matter that you never cared about me because I care about you so much that I hope it's enough for the both of us. I have only shown you kindness, and I have never, _never_ expected you to return anything. So why do you treat me like this?"

 _("Daddy! I saw Enoch did horrible things to the corpses. I am scared, Daddy.")_

 _("Devil little spawn! I hope you burn in God's fiery depths of hell, boy.")_

 _("Get away from the demon, everyone! Get away before he curses you!")_

(" _An absolute abomination! Why don't you just_ die, _boy_?")

 _("Father, please! It hurts! Father, I promise I won't do it again. Promise!")_

"Because, my darling Olive," he said, putting on the most convincing evil grin he could manage. "I am the devil's little demon."

He clenched his jaw to stop himself from calling out her name when Olive turned around and headed to the door. He kept his eyes on the spot where she was just moments ago, even as he listened her unlocking the door. But when she said his name, he relented just a bit, looking at her from the corner of his eye as he turned his head a millimeter.

"What?" he spat, willing her to just leave before he changed his mind and begged on her feet for her to forgive him.

"One day, you will be so sorry, Enoch O'Connor," she said coolly before stepping out of the room.

Suddenly, his knees felt like buckling, and it was only luck that he was quick enough to hold on the steering wheel before he fell. Letting out a mirthless chuckle, he muttered, "I already am, my dear. I already am."

* * *

"Eat it," Millard said as a flying spoon was shoved right in front of Enoch's mouth.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he replied, "I am not five anymore, Millard. I can very well eat my dinner all on my own."

"I know that," the invisible boy said in a cheeky tone. "But when Emma told me that I got the chance to treat you like a spoiled toddler - which you _are_ for most of the time, by the way, if you aren't being a grumpy teenager - I just couldn't pass on the chance. So, eat up, you big baby."

"Fine," Enoch grumbled, opening his mouth so Millard could feed him the porridge the boy had stolen from a shop before the ship sailed.

"Good boy," Millard said. When he felt a hand ruffling his hair, Enoch had to fight the urge not to throttle he little brat.

After his heartfelt session with Emma down the cooler room, with tears running down her face, she called out for her boyfriend, who was actually standing outside the whole time they were talking. If he could, Enoch would have glared at the girl for hiding the fact that Jacob was around when he was spilling his darkest secret. But he was too weak, so he kept his mouth shut as he let the two love birds helped him to get back to his room. Emma told Jacob to watch over him as she went to fix him his lunch, to which Jacob obediently obeyed. It was about half an hour later that a floating bowl of porridge and a hat came into the room, and Millard's voice was heard saying that he was sent by Emma to personally hand-feed Enoch, as well as to tell Jacob that Emma and Miss P needed to see him. That was how he ended up stuck with the brat, who seemed to be having too much fun at the moment. Enoch was sure that he wasn't goin to let him forget about it for as long as he lived, and the thought made his sour mood gone worse.

"Stop pouting, handsome," Millard said as he fed him the last of the porridge. "Look, you've eaten all! Now, drink this milk, and then the water. I read in a book once that milk and fresh water is the medicine to everything."

"You know," Enoch said, drinking all the milk in one go before taking the glass of fresh water. "You are _very_ smart if you're not so annoying, kid."

"Thank you very much, Enoch. And you are very smart as well if you aren't such a huge pain in everyone's neck." When Enoch glared at him, the boy let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, don't be so serious! Remember, we are getting old from now on. You might want to take it easy on the pouting, lest you age prematurely."

"Why are you still here?" the necromancer said as a retort. "I thought your job was to make sure I ate my dinner. I'm done with it."

"Well, I have a present for you," Millard replied. "It's from all of us, Miss P included, for all your hardwork that nearly cost you your life. Well, it _did_ cost you your life in the end. You _died_ , right?"

Realising that Millard wouldn't leave until he gave him the so-called present, Enoch sighed. "Millard, I am _so_ tired right now. So, if you have something to give me, do it now before I pass out."

"Right," Millard said. The hat on his head turned toward the door. "Come in, present!"

Enoch was halfway from jumping on the boy, thinking that it was one of his games, when the door was suddenly opened, and Olive stepped into the room. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the redhead standing by his door. If he ever called her unattractive before, he surely changed his mind now. He had _never_ seen something as captivating as his little fire, and from the way his heart ached, he honestly had no idea why in the _world_ he thought he could live without her by his side. He vaguely heard Millard said something about him having to leave before his technically under-aged eyes saw something that would traumatise him forever. Enoch didn't care though. He nearly didn't realise when the boy had exited his room. The only thing he could comprehend was Olive had taken the spot where Millard occupied just moments ago, giving him that trademark shy smile that was so her. He was sure hours had passed with him merely staring at Olive while she nervously played with her fingers, avoiding to look at him in the eye. When he finally regained his ability to talk, it was like a dam just broke.

"I lied," he began, his voice sounded a little shaky. "Everything I said back in the control room was a lie. You were right. I _did_ care about you, Olive. And I am so, _so_ sorry for everything I'd done. You are the most important person in this whole universe for me. Even before I lost Victor, you already mattered so much to me. I am an idiot, and I don't deserve you. I know that after all those mean things I said to you, there's no way you're ever going to forgive me – _and that's okay._ I understand if you hate me, and if you don't want to even be friends with me any longer. It's okay, I get it. I was horrible to you. I just…I just want you to know that you _are_ important to me and – "

 _And she kissed him._

After all he'd done to her, she would still kiss him.

The kiss was short and if he were to be honest, it ended much to soon for his liking. But she had a big smile on her face so he dared not to complain. "You hurt me, Enoch. And it's _not_ okay. You have to know that. But, I _don't_ hate you, and I forgive you."

Her words shocked him more than the kiss did. Looking into her green eyes, he whispered, "Why?"

"Because," she said, taking his right hand toward her lips so she could kiss it. "I love you, Enoch O'Connor. I love you so very much that hating you is simply _not_ an option."

A smile began to grew on his face, and as seconds passed, he felt it grew bigger. Soon, he was chuckling softly as he pulled Olive closer until she was practically on his lap. Cupping her face in his hand, he said, "Say it. Say it again, please."

"I love you, Enoch," Olive said, letting out a faint giggle when Enoch leaned to kiss her.

"Again. Say it again, Olive."

"I love you, Enoch. I have loved you from the moment Miss Peregrine brought me and Emma to the house. I have loved you through everything since the day we first met. I will _always_ love you and I promise, I will _never_ leave you like everyone else did. I love you and I'm not going anywhere."

Enoch felt as if his heart was going to burst in happiness. Giving her another peck on the lips, he finally said the words that he'd always wanted to say but was too much of a coward to say it. But his Olive more than deserved to hear it, so he would be brave for her and say the words that was long-overdue for her to hear.

"I love you too, Olive Elephanta. I know that you are much too good for me, so I promise that I will make sure to cherish and worship you with all the love my little black heart can muster because you _deserve_ it. I will dedicate my whole life to show you just how much I love you, my dear," Enoch said. He leaned one more time toward her because he could _not_ bare one more second passed without kissing her. Thus, he was a little disappointed, and _worried,_ when Olive jumped off his lap and went toward the door.

"Olive?" he said, tilting his head to the side. When he saw Olive locked the door, he couldn't help but to laugh heartily,

With a sneaky grin on her face, his fiery little fire said, "We _can't_ traumatise the children, Enoch."

"Whatever you say, my dear."

* * *

"Hey, Olive. What is it like to be kissing a guy who's like, two decades older than you are? Does it feel as disgusting as I think it is? Because, technically, he is old enough to be your fathe – "

A bowl of porridge was thrown across the room, landing precisely on the invisible boy, who would have looked scandalously surprised if he was visible.

"ENOCH!" Olive, Miss Peregrine, and Emma yelled. All three ladies glared the culprit who just threw the bowl of porridge. The boy – _man,_ in question merely shrugged.

"He knows it's coming," Enoch said.

Beside him, Jacob Portman laughed as he muttered under his breath, "Grandpa would definitely _love_ to hear about this."

* * *

 **NOTES 2** : I would like to make it clear with you guys that I _don't_ think Lauren McCrostie, who portrayed Olive, wasn't pretty. I do think she _is_ pretty. However, this story was written in Enoch's pov, and his stupid little mind, he used to think that beautiful was something the way Emma was - because that was how his former sweetheart Sarah sort of looked like.


	2. Olive Elephanta

**NOTES 1:** Hello! I'm back. It seems that I just _can't_ part with Enoch and Olive yet, so I ended up writing another chapter. This time though, it's from Olive's perspective. I haven't really proof-read it because it's already so late here and I've to a class early in the morning tomorrow. So yeah. Tell me what do you think :)

* * *

 _"Tell me what you're thinkin'  
Always over thinkin'  
I just wanna love you  
I got you  
Don't have to be so guarded  
Let's finish what we started  
It's all I ever wanted."_

 ** _\- I Got You,_** _Bebe Rexha_

Their relationship was an odd one. Even more so than that of Hugh and Fiona. Since Hugh couldn't possibly talk too much without having the bees inside of him swarming out of his mouth, it must be rather hard for the two of them to have a proper relationship. But, then again, Fiona could grow a full-grown tree from mere seedlings with the touch of her hand, where Hugh could send his bees to rest. Not to mention, despite their age, physically they _were_ much too young to be romancing each other. So, they could worry more about it later on. Because in the end, their relationship was rather normal, even with their Peculiarity to count.

Unlike Olive and Enoch.

The girl who couldn't touch and the boy who didn't like to touch.

"For God's sake, Millard; put some clothes on!" Enoch yelled at lunch time as he glared at the invisible figure sitting on _his_ seat.

"Okay, okay!" Millard's voice was heard as he pushed Enoch's chair backward so he could get off it. "Just don't throw anymore porridge at me. The last time you did that, it took _two hours_ to get it off my hair, you know."

Enoch didn't bother to respond and simply sat on his chair, nodding curtly when he saw Miss Peregrine flashed him a grateful smile. Being the oldest and Miss Peregrine's first child, it was an unspoken agreement that he was the ymbryne's right hand. That was part of the reason why he sat on the other end of the table, across Miss Peregrine. In the past, the ones who sat on his right and left were Victor and Bronwyn, as his oldest friends. But after Victor died, his position was taken by Millard, much to Enoch's utter displeasure, although the invisible boy liked to move around to annoy people. However, with the latest development that happened, that spot was now reserved for Olive. At first, she was a little apprehensive about whether she should take the seat beside Enoch. But when her usual seat, which was between Fiona and Hugh, was occupied by Horace, and Millard took Horace's old seat, Olive _(happily)_ had no choice but to sit on Enoch's right.

As the oldest two girls, it was up to Olive and Emma to help Miss Peregrine prepared the food. On the other hand, Enoch and Jacob prepared the table with help from Fiona and Hugh, while Millard and Horace were watching the younger kids. Once the food was served, everyone took their seats and began to eat their food in silence. It had been three weeks since her talk with Enoch, when the two of them declared their love to one another. She knew that the necromancer was still having problems with showing affections toward her, but he was trying, at least. They would still spend a lot of time together in Enoch's room with his projects, but whenever Enoch felt like letting off some steam, they would soon find themselves snogging each other's brains out. Then when they joined the others for meal, Olive would often find Enoch's hand grabbing hers from under the table, his thumb softly tracing circles on her glove-covered knuckles.

 _And it was making her mad._

Olive wanted to _feel_ Enoch's hand on her own. She wanted to hold his hand without her glove getting in the way. She wanted to _touch_ him freely without fear of setting him on fire. True, the first few times they kissed were a little sloppy. But as time passed, they were getting better at it and more than once Olive wanted to _know_ what it was like to feel Enoch's skin right under her bare hands. They hadn't crossed _that_ line yet, and she wasn't sure when they would be ready for it. But Olive feared that they never would. Sure, they could… _try_ it with her gloves on. But she hated the thought that even in their most intimate, their Peculiarity would still get in the way. And the thought to do it without the gloves was just too scary for her to think about. The last thing she wanted was to burn the man she loved just because she couldn't keep it together.

 _(Like that time you burnt your house down? When you_ killed _your sister?)_

 _(Stop it.)_

 _(Do you remember that, Olive?)_

Suddenly, everything was getting too much for her. She didn't even realise it when she pushed her chair back abruptly, causing everyone to look at her in surprise.

"Olive, dear?" Miss Peregrine asked, tilting her head to her side in a very bird-like manner. "What's the matter, child?"

"Nothing, Miss P," Olive said, forcing a smile as she tried to avoid Enoch's eyes. It didn't help that the boy was holding tight onto her hand, refusing to let her go. "I just…I just need some air."

"Olive – "

"Later, Enoch," Olive said, yanking her hand forcefully from Enoch's grip before she half-ran toward the dock, tears were already falling freely from her eyes.

But it was the look on Enoch's face that made her cried. He looked _betrayed,_ as if she had cheated on him. But, she might as well. One of their agreements was to have no secret any longer between the two of them.

And Olive just broke it.

* * *

Olive used to have a twin sister. Her name was Viola, and she was the younger twin by three minutes. Except for the fact that they were born one the same day just minutes apart, they had no other similarities between them. Viola was the one that their parents loved the most because she was the prettier twin with her brown hair and doe-like brown eyes that made her looked like a doll. But they were very close to one another, and nothing could ever separate the two of them. Wherever Olive was, Viola would definitely be by her side. When they were little kids, a lot of children teased Olive for her vibrant hair. Viola would be her knight-in-shining-armour, coming to her defense even when she tried to convince the brunette that she was fine with the teasing. On the other hand, Olive was always there for Viola when the other girl struggled with her grades, wouldn't hesitate to spend hours teaching her twin until she could get the hang of it. In all her life, Olive never thought that she would ever live a life without her sister.

When her power first manifested, Viola was the first and only one to know. Olive was only fourteen back then. She had accidentally set her dress on fire, and if it wasn't for Viola's quick-thinking to dump the dress into the tub in their shared bathroom, she'd probably burn her room. It didn't take them long to figure out that whatever Olive touch would burst into flames. That was when Viola sneaked out into their father's shed, and grabbed their grandfather's old leather-gloves for Olive. The gloves were a little too big for her, but at least they worked. Everything went on as if nothing had changed. When their parents asked about it, they said it was the trend for young girls to wear. When their teachers asked, they said it was because Olive was allergic toward dust. When other kids asked them about it, they wouldn't even bother to answer. For the next two years, it all went well.

Until _that_ night.

Olive could barely remember the details anymore, but she remembered she had fallen asleep downstairs in the living room when suddenly, she felt her father woke her up roughly. When she opened her eyes, she saw that her right hand was no longer covered, and there was fire _everywhere._ Her father told her to go outside with her mother, but Olive knew her twin was still upstairs in their room, so instead of following her father's order, she made a bee-line toward the stairs to her room. Her father was very quick though, because he caught her before she could get all the way to the second-floor. Throwing her over his shoulder, he ran out of the house as fast as he could, ignoring Olive's cries to _please please go save Viola because she's still up there, Dad!_ But before her father could even consider of going back to get his other daughter, the house exploded.

 _("I can't wait to grow up," Viola had said one day as she braided Olive's hair. "I want to get married soon so I can have children. Then our children will be the best of friends just like we are, Liv.")_

The pyromancer no longer remembered what happened next after the house exploded. All she knew was her mother had bought her a pair of leather-gloves that covered her skin to her elbow, before selling her off to a freakshow.

 _("Easy for you to say that, sis. You're awfully pretty," Olive replied but there was no malice in her tone. She was never envious of her sister. "No boy would ever look at me when you're around.")_

That was the last time she saw her parents.

 _("Someday, there will be, my dear twin. And when that boy comes, I'll be giving you a big, fat 'I-told-you-so'.")_

* * *

"You've been up here for hours," a voice said behind her. Without having to turn around, Olive already knew who it was. They spent so many years in each other's presence after all.

"I know," she said in a small voice. "I've counted the seconds up to ten thousand, seven hundred and fifty six."

Typical of Enoch, he said nothing else, even as he settled himself standing behind her. Then she felt his right hand testily hovered around her waist, as if he was unsure whether he should touch her or not. Knowing the quiet necromancer very well, Olive took the initiative and did the work for him, taking her right hand off the railing so she could wrap Enoch's hand around her. When Enoch stepped even closer until his chest pressed tightly against Olive's back, she felt his free hand reached over to cover her left hand that was on the railing. Olive couldn't stop herself from smiling in contempt as she leaned back onto him, her head on his shoulder. If anyone was watching, they would be shock with the level of intimacy they were showing. But Olive could care less. She needed him, and he was right there with her – _for her._ The pyromancer hummed gently when Enoch kissed her hair, feeling much calmer in only a few minutes since Enoch came than the past three hours she spent alone. They basked in the comfortable silence for who knew how long. It surprised her when it was actually Enoch to broke the silence.

"It doesn't matter to me if we end up never doing _that_ ," Enoch said in a low tone, catching Olive off her guard. "I love you no matter what, with or without the physical part."

Looking up at her… _boyfriend,_ she asked, "H-how did you – ?"

Enoch shrugged. "We've been together for almost a month now. Whenever our kiss gets too intense, you would push me away. At first, I thought you weren't ready. And really, I was fine with that. I _still_ am. But then I noticed you'd look at me longingly as we resumed our work for the rest of the day, and I realised you _want_ it too."

"Enoch – "

"But, you don't have to tell me why, though. I trust you enough not to force it out of you."

Olive sighed, turning around so she could bury her face on Enoch's chest. He had come so far from the boy who feared attachment, and that was the reason why she decided that he deserved to know. But she couldn't say it if she looked into his eyes, because what she was going to admit to him would probably send him running away from her. She had known for a long time that Enoch wasn't comfortable with physical contact. Even now, it was obvious that the only person who was allowed to touch him was her, and maybe Miss Peregrine. So she turned her back on him to look at the view in front of her, stilling herself for the worse as confession poured out of her mouth.

"I want to touch you, Enoch," the pyromancer said. "I want to touch you _without_ the gloves. When we're _that_ intimate, I want to feel your skin under my finger tips. I want to run my hand through your hair and feel the curly strands against _my_ skin. But I can never do that without the gloves."

Enoch had gone so silent for a long time that for a split second, Olive thought he'd left. But when she turned around again to check whether he was still there or not, she was surprised to find his face just millimeters away from her own. Her breath hitched when she noticed how his pupils were dilated, and how his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed heavily. She felt, rather than saw, the necromancer tuck a lose strand of her hair behind her hair as he leaned closer toward her.

"So, what you were saying was that you…you wanted to…"

"Yes, Enoch," Olive said, blushing furiously. "I _do_ want to make love to you."

With a possessive growl that was _so_ typical of Enoch, he crashed his lips on hers.

* * *

When Olive first met Emma, she instantly felt like seeing her twin again. From the moment Emma introduced herself to her, Olive felt like seeing Viola talking to her. The way they talked, the way the smiled, the way there were always so sure of everything, was _exactly_ the same. Olive knew that it was ridiculous, but she was rather convinced that when Viola died, she had actually gone to… _live again_ through Emma. Maybe it was Viola's Peculiarity, that her soul could move and live on another being. It was crazy but Olive liked the thought. That was part of the reason why she and Emma got a long so well so quick, other than the part about the blonde being genuinely likable. When Olive found out that the reason Emma could fly was because she _too_ had powers like her, Olive knew that their friendship would last forever. She knew that they would always be there for each other, protecting one another from harm. So, they planned their escape from the circus, and a little over a year later, they ran away together.

It was probably one the best memory Olive had in her life, despite the situation.

She remembered tying a rope around Emma's waist, then tying that same rope around herself; remembered how she double-checked Emma's lead-shoes as they got out of their shared-tent to the forest, and then setting off some properties on fire before running as fast as they could. The adrenaline rushing through her were the only thing that kept her running for a week, even as she dragged a floating and tired Emma behind, when the girl's feet started to bleed because her shoes back then weren't that comfortable. It was intense and rather terrifying, but the laugh they both shared at the taste of freedom was more than making up to it. When Miss Peregrine found them hiding in a barn, eating some stale bread Olive managed to steal from a bakery, they were actually afraid that they escaped the circus just to enter another kind of hell. Therefore, when the ymbryne brought them to her loop, the whole time explaining to them about Peculiars and Peculiarities, she was so very grateful. Finally, she was safe. Finally, she could stop running.

But the _best_ moment of her life was probably when she met _him._

Enoch O'Connor. The boy who frowned and scowled so venomously, even _Death_ was scared of him.

She was enjoying Miss Peregrine's infamous hot coco, sitting rather stiffly with Emma on the couch, who was just as tense as she was, if not more, when she heard footsteps behind her. Olive turned around when the Bird told her that those were the rest of her children, ready to greet them. The first one she noticed was of course, the Twins who were covered completely from top to toe. The second one was the little girl named Bronwyn, who curtsied at her and Emma with a wide smile on her cute little face. The girl confidently proceeded to introduce them to the last two kids in their group, two boys who looked to be around the same age. She introduced her brother first, the late Victor who gave her and Emma a polite smile. But when she was introduced to Enoch, Olive felt her heart stopped beating. His deep brown eyes had found hers first, and he was looking her in a way that made her felt like the _most_ beautiful girl in the whole wide world. She told him her name, giving out her hand long enough until she realised that he wasn't going to take it, and then nervously lowered it with a slight blush on her face. She felt Emma's continuous nudge on her ribs, and for the first time since she knew the girl, her protectiveness felt rather annoying. But the thought soon flew out of her mind when Miss Peregrine told Enoch to take them to their rooms.

The first few times Enoch shrugged her off callously hurt her so much, she often found herself nearly crying because of him. But after sometime, she learned that it was just how he was. She saw how he often shoved a clay doll or two _(or five)_ toward Bronwyn after breakfast, silently accepting the girl's beaming gratitude when she told him. She noticed that he was _always_ the first one to come to Miss Peregrine's aid when she needed him too, even when he was too busy perfecting his army of clay soldiers. Once or twice, she even managed to catch him smiled at the sight of Victor and the Twins running around the house, playing hide-and-seek. It was on her third year, when she was helping Bronwyn getting ready one morning, about year after Abe's arrival, that the younger girl _(technically older by twelve years)_ gave her more insight toward the necromancer that she was having a crush on.

"So, how long have you been here, Bronwyn?" Olive had asked that day. Bronwyn looked contemplative as she counted under her breath, nodding at her chubby fingers for each of the year she spent in the loop.

"About eighteen years, I think," Bronwyn said casually, and it surprised Olive so much her hand froze midway brushing the strong-girl's curly hair. "It's not really easy to count the years when you've been living the day over and over again."

"Wow, that's a long time," Olive said once she got over a shock. "So, you're like twenty-eight, right?"

"Yep!" the girl said proudly, popping the p in a childish way that it made it even harder for Olive to remember she was old enough to have children of her own. "But really, I'm not _that_ old. If anyone's old, it's Enoch. He'll be forty-three next month!"

The pyromancer nodded her head, trying her all her might to act normal when her heart started to beat faster as she realised that, if she wanted to know more about the boy – _man,_ she had feelings for, Bronwyn was the perfect person to help her.

"You've known him for a long time then, for you to know his birthday. I mean, he doesn't seem like the kind of person to inform the world about it."

The little girl giggled, and the cute sound brought a smile on Olive's face. "Oh, I've known Enoch quite long, yes. And you're right about that. My brother had to _literally_ wrestle the date out of him until the bloke relented. Long story short, they were playing cards and the bet was they'd tell each other's secret. Enoch being Enoch refused to tell Victor his birthday when he lost, so my brother tackled him to the floor and threatened he'd destroy all Enoch's clay-dolls if he didn't tell. So yeah. Enoch's birthday is on December third."

"I can only imagine the look on his face," Olive said, laughing a little as she imagined Enoch glowering at a smug-faced Victor.

"It was hilarious, really! Enoch's probably the most anti-social human being on Earth, even more than my brother – _and that's saying something._ I think it's got to do with the fact that he's got a rough childhood, but then again, my brother and I grew up with an abusive step-father. But at least we had each other, and Enoch had none. So, maybe that's why."

Miss Peregrine then called out for the two of them to come down for breakfast, and the two quickly obliged. But the whole day, all Olive could only think about was Bronwyn's words, over and over. She finally understood why Enoch wasn't entirely comfortable interacting with people. Although her parents sold her to the circus once they found about her Peculiarity, at least they didn't do much damage to her. In fact, for most of the time, even before her power manifested, they mostly ignored her. Olive couldn't imagine having to grow up in constant abuse from her parents just for something she couldn't control. If it were her, she'd probably _kill_ herself long before she had the chance to escape. It was one thing escaping a circus, where everyone was mean to you because not only the feared your power, but because they had no relation _at all_ to you. But to escape your own parents, the people you should be able to trust without fear, who had abused you for _years,_ was something else entirely. No wonder the boy was so closed off.

Call her a stupid romantic, or a masochist even. But, maybe that was the reason why Olive was so attracted to Enoch. It wasn't his darkness that attracted her. It was the fact that despite everything else, he still found it in him the will to live when the whole world turned their backs on him. She admired him for that because she knew how it wasn't easy. When Viola died, Olive felt like following her. It was only luck that she met Emma. But, as far as she knew, Enoch didn't really have anyone until that day he left his parents and met Miss Peregrine. He held on for years, on his own. So, when Olive saw Enoch sat on the other end of the table across Miss Peregrine, she made it a mission to always be there for him. To be his _friend._

Even if he didn't need her.

* * *

They were lying in his bed that night, her head on his shoulder, face buried against his chest as he wrapped his hand around her. It was probably her favourite part of the day since they got together, because it was the only time when they could be together without fear of anyone interrupting them to heat up the machine or to make sure the skeletons were working again. When Enoch moved Olive's things from her room into his, just two days after he recovered fully, Miss Peregrine threw a fit. She said how it was improper when two teenagers of the opposite sex shared a room together. She even talked about how she hadn't allowed Emma sharing a room then with Abe, and she _still_ hadn't allowed the floating girl sharing her room with Jacob now; much to Emma's absolute embarrassment. But Enoch ignored the woman. He barely blinked at Miss Peregrine's loud yelling. The necromancer merely waited until the Bird stopped talking, the whole time never stopping filling up his room with Olive's things. Once she was done, he said the one argument that led the ymbryne to relenting.

"I need her, Miss P," he had said solemnly. "I need Olive to keep me sane and whole. I've lived _seventy-three_ years treating her poorly as if she didn't matter to me, when she was the only reason I have to keep on going. I've never asked you for anything before, so _please,_ just once, will you do this for me? I promise I'll behave."

It was known among everyone that their headmistress had a soft sport toward her first charge, and it was seen from the way her stiff composure relaxed, from the way she let out a tired sigh, that she would not deny Enoch's request. Carefully patting the boy's shoulder, the woman said, "Fine. Just promise me you _won't_ do anything that you two will regret, all right?"

That was how Enoch got what he wanted, and why Emma had been throwing daggers at the necromancer for every time she saw him.

Not like Enoch cared though.

"Have you ever thought of learning to control it?" Enoch asked as he absentmindedly played with the loose strand of Olive's hair. "Like, have you ever just touched anything without your gloves, on purpose, and tried to _not_ set it on fire?"

"Yes," Olive answered, looking from Enoch's chest so she could look at him in the eye. "Well, not really. I mean, I found out the hard way that whatever I touch would burst into flames. So, after awhile, I stopped trying."

Enoch hummed gently, his brown eyes looked thoughtful. "I was thinking… Never mind. I know you won't do it."

"What?" Olive said, shifting around a little bit to sit up. "What were you thinking about?"

The necromancer shrugged. "It's nothing. You won't agree."

"If you think it can help me control my power, I think I have the right to know." She crossed her arms in front of her chest in annoyance, glaring at Enoch who looked amused. "I promise I'll at least consider it. So, tell me."

"I have a theory," Enoch began, relenting after sometime when Olive wouldn't stop glaring at him. "That the reason you can't control it is because you _believe_ it's uncontrollable. I mean, you said it yourself. You stopped trying after awhile. Maybe that's the reason why."

"That can be true," Olive agreed regretfully, thinking how she even became scared of herself after she accidentally burned down her house, killing her twin in the process.

"I think, if you believe that you _can_ control it, the outcome will be much different. So, if you…want me to, I can help you to learn to control it."

The thought that her grumpy necromancer actually cared enough about her to want to help her with her power made Olive's heart bloomed in both love and joy. Leaning forward so she could reward him with a kiss, she said, "Thank you. That's very nice of you, Enoch."

"It's the least I can do after everything I've done to you," Enoch said with a sad smile as he returned the kiss, one hand cupping her cheek gently.

"I think 'you're welcome' is more than suffice," Olive said, rolling her eyes despite the grin on her face. Resuming her place on Enoch's chest, she then said, "Can we start tomorrow?"

"For you, my little flame, we can start _anytime_ you want."

* * *

Almost all of the rooms on the ship were damaged really bad, so a lot of the kids had to share their rooms. They needed to move a few of the beds though, because not all the beds were big enough for two people. But at least there was Bronwyn to help them all, though she still demanded for the boys to help her as well. So, Olive ended up with Emma, Fiona was with Bronwyn and Claire, Hugh was with Millard, Jacob bunked with Horace, and the Twins were obviously together. The only ones who got their room to themselves were Miss Peregrine _(obviously)_ and Enoch, who flat out refused to share his room with anyone because he needed the space for his work. Thus, it was only understandable when everyone was shocked to find him bustling in and out of his room and the room Olive shared with Emma to move her things, because they remembered he wanted his room all to himself. This led to a decision between Jacob and Emma that they would be doing the same thing. Jacob didn't right out bring all of his stuffs into Emma's room the way Enoch did though, to avoid confrontation. He started out little by little. In a short matter of time, all of his stuffs had moved into the room Emma now occupied alone, what with Olive moving into Enoch's. If Miss Peregrine knew about it, which Olive didn't doubt, the Bird actually ignored it and went along with everything.

It was not long after she first moved in with Enoch that Olive felt the need to talk about something, girl-related, with her oldest friend. One day, when Enoch was off discussing with Miss Peregrine about where they should dock next to set their loop, Olive headed off to her old room, where Emma now shared with Jacob. The lanky boy was the one who opened the door when Olive knocked on it. He politely smiled at Olive, telling her that Emma was just about to finish taking a bath. It was a minute later when Emma walked out of the bathroom, wearing the fluffy bathrobe that Olive had as well in her own room. Jacob and Enoch nicked them from a store just minutes before they departed from Blackpool, along with a few new clothes for everyone. When the two young men showed everyone what they brought, Miss Peregrine had a look on her face that was between unapproval and amusement. Thankfully, she said nothing about it, because Olive rather liked the robe and the cute dresses Enoch had gotten her. But, Olive suspected that it had something with the fact that Enoch and Jacob had _bought_ the Bird a beautiful blue dress _,_ using the old money Abe had given Jacob before he left, along with an exquisite pipe that had her name ingrained on it.

"Olive!" Emma said, beaming at the sight of her ginger friend, rushing to hug Olive. "It's so nice of you to _finally_ visit me. Finally getting bored with your Doctor Frankenstein, huh?"

Olive frowned. "What? _No,_ I'm never bo – "

"Of course, you're not," Emma laughed, showing that she was joking. "If you're not bored for the past seventy years, I don't think you're giving up now… Anyway, I'm glad you came. You were right on time for sleepover. Jacob was just leaving actually, and he'll go fetch your stuffs so you can stay the night here with me. He'll be bunking with Enoch."

 _"I am?"_ Jacob asked, surprised. When Emma glared at him, immediately he corrected himself. "Oh, right! I uh, I'll be leaving now. Don't worry about your things, Olive. I'll go get them."

 _(A few minutes later, when Jacob went to get Olive's things, they all could hear Enoch yelled, "What do you_ mean _you're sleeping here tonight because your girlfriend kidnapped_ my _girlfriend, Portman? No, you're back to sleeping with Horace.")_

"So!" Emma said with a smile on her face after she got dressed. "What is it you want to talk about, my friend? Has Enoch been treating you good?"

"He's been wonderful," Olive answered with a shy smile. "He still has problems with expressing himself, but he's getting there. At least now he's not denying his feelings anymore. I mean, he actually tells me he loves me every morning _and_ every night. Isn't that amazing?"

"Oh wow, that _is_ amazing," Emma said, tilting her head to the side. "I'm not even sure we're talking about the same Enoch O'Connor."

"Emma," Olive warned her, her tone half-joking and half-serious. The other girl giggled, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Okay, I'll stop. But, really, I'm so glad he treats you the way you've always deserved to be treated. And it's nice that he seems to change for the better now, all because of you." The blonde then lowered herself on her bed, pulling Olive to lay down beside her, and the ginger was reminded of all the times she did the same thing not only with Emma back in the mansion, but also with Viola. "But, I think that's enough for jokes. Now, we get on a more serious topic."

"About?" Olive asked, even if she already knew what Emma wanted to talk about. After all, it _was_ the reason she came to see Emma.

Emma wiggled her eyebrows before she continued. "How _good_ a kisser is Mr O'Connor? And I want an honest-to-God answer, Olive. So, don't even think about giving me vague explanations."

"I think he's perfect," Olive said, fully aware that she sounded stupidly dreamy, but she had long stopped caring. "You probably think I'm bias, and maybe I am. And the fact that he's the only boy I've ever kissed isn't really helping my argument, I know. But, it's true."

"Care to elaborate, Liv?" Emma prodded gently.

Olive felt herself blushing even as a huge smile made an appearance on her face. "Seriously, he's like the perfect gentleman. Biologically speaking, he must be wild with all those teenage-hormones raging in him. But, that never happens with Enoch. He never forces himself on me, always respects me when I want to stop. I mean, I fully understand it if he loses control. He's been seventeen for a _century_ after all."

"Yeah, that must be a lot of self-restraint on his part," the floating-girl agreed. "You must not tell anyone about this, but even kind and gentle _Jacob_ sometimes finds it hard to keep it in his pants."

There it was.

The perfect opportunity for Olive to ask _the_ question.

"Have you done it though?" Olive quickly asked, before she lost the nerve. "Have you…"

"Yes," Emma said, her face flushed red at the same time Olive's eyes went wide. "But _don't_ tell anyone about it! The Bird will probably _kill_ the both of us if she finds out I've had sex with Jacob."

"H-how was it? And uh, I mean no offense, but you can't exactly stay put long enough to… Well, you know what I mean."

"Please, don't make me go into details," Emma begged, her face flushed even redder, if possible. "I won't ask you about the details regarding what you do in the bedroom with Enoch if you don't ask me about mine."

"Ah…" Olive trailed off, biting her lip. "You see, that's the thing, Em. We uh, we haven't done it."

Emma's enormous hazel eyes widened in epic proportions as she stared at Olive in disbelief. "Hang on a sec. When you said he _never_ forces you, are you saying that…"

"Yeah…" Olive faltered a bit, and she was thankful when Emma said nothing else, probably sensing that she still had something to say. "Don't get me wrong. I want to, and Enoch surely does to. But, the thing is, I want to do it without my gloves on. And you know what will happen if I take them off."

"That's problematic, yeah…" Emma looked contemplative for a moment, before continuing. "Have you talked to the bloke about it though?"

 _"Are you kidding?"_ Olive said, rolling her eyes when Emma merely stared back at her. "We're talking about _Enoch;_ the same person who _yelled_ at you when you tapped him on his shoulder to tell him dinner's ready."

"When you put it that way, I can see why you don't… But I still believe you have to tell him though. Maybe, he can give you a solution or something."

"If only it was that easy, Em..." Olive sighed.

* * *

"I don't think we should do this in a such enclosed space, Enoch," Olive said, eyeing what once was the cooler room warily as Enoch closed the door behind them.

"Why not? It'll be safer here, where no kids will be wandering around, rather than up there. Everything is made of metal here. This is pretty much the most indestructible place in this ship."

"Yeah, well, what if I lose control of my power? We're locked in here."

"Then we'll die together."

 _"Enoch!"_ Olive hissed, slapping the boy's arm in annoyance, who merely stifled a grin. "I am serious here! If I accidentally set you on fire, we won't have enough time to go get help."

"Because we _won't_ ," Enoch said with a small smile. He took a step forward before leaning to give gentle peck on Olive's lips. "I trust you and I know everything will be fine."

Looking into Enoch's deep brown eyes, Olive knew she lost the argument already. Letting out a deep breath, she relented. "Alright, we'll do it here… What do you want me to do then?"

"Take off your gloves first."

"Done."

"Now, I want you to touch me."

Olive instantly recoiled, backing away hastily until her back hit the wall, which she soon regretted when Enoch advanced forward, cornering her effectively. " _Are you mad?_ No, _don't_ answer me because I know you'll just get smart with me and answer me with your usual sarcasm."

Enoch cocked an eye brow but kept on reaching out to Olive's uncovered hands. "Then you know I'm bloody serious about this. So, give me your hand, Olive."

"But, _why?_ I thought…I thought you wanted me to hold something and see if I can hold my fire in. I certainly _did not_ expect it to be your hand."

"It won't work if it's not my hand. You're scared of your powers, so we need to make sure that your powers won't hurt anyone you care about. What better way than using me?"

"No. If this is the only way for me to be able to control my powers, I rather not. I will never risk anyone, let alone _you_ , just so I can – _Enoch, what are you doing!"_

Too busy trying to convince Enoch that his idea was an awful one, Olive didn't see it coming when Enoch lunged forward and grabbed for her hand. Before Olive could pull it back, the necromancer had tightened his grasp around Olive's hand, barely flinching when Olive set his hand on fire. It must be hurting him though because after awhile, he let her hand go, revealing the burnt mess that was once his right hand. Olive was near hysterical at the sight of his hand, and she would have screamed if she had the energy to. Instead, she quickly grabbed for her gloves before immediately went to check for Enoch's hand.

" _You – stupid – suicidal – idiot!"_ Olive yelled, reaching out for Enoch's hand, which he hid behind his back. "Give me your hand, Enoch. Give me your hand _now!"_

"It's fine, Olive," he said, letting out a tired sigh when he finally showed her his hand. Olive nearly had a heart attack when she saw that his hand, despite the angry red-mark that would scar him probably forever, looked _perfectly_ alright.

"How in the world…?" Olive whispered. Her moody necromancer merely shrugged.

"It comes with my powers to give life, I guess. I have high pain-tolerance, and I can self-heal, although not entirely. I've tried to heal others though, but it seems that I can only heal myself."

"Does it…does it hurt?"

"Yes, but I can take it. Don't worry about me."

Olive thought about objecting, because there was still this feeling in the back of her mind that kept on telling her how Enoch was lying. But she wanted to be able to control her powers so bad, she decided to ignore it. Besides, the beaming smile on Enoch's face when he saw her taking her gloves off again, which quickly disappeared when Olive took a moment to blink, was more than worth it.

"Fine. We'll do it again. But if this ends up _killing_ you, Enoch O'Connor, I'm going to find another necromancer to bring you back and _then_ I'll kill you myself."

"Deal," Enoch said with a smirk. "After all, I doubt there is _another_ one like me."

* * *

Enoch and Miss Peregrine had agreed that they would set off the new loop in America. According to Abe, there used to be an abandoned house just south to the California loop, and when Jacob checked it during his trip to go back to them, the house hadn't been touched since 1943. Miss Peregrine thought it was perfect, and told Enoch to set course to America. Enoch, on the other hand, wasn't very keen on their destination. Firstly, he thought that anything American gave a bad taste in his mouth. Secondly, he knew _exactly_ why Jacob told Miss Peregrine about the house. It was obvious, and even Olive had an inkling. It took a few nudges on the ribs from, and a warning glare that said ' _keep quiet or I'll move to bunk in with Emma',_ for Enoch to keep his thoughts to himself. The only person that agreed with Enoch was Emma, and it was a given. When the ship docked, the tension rolling off Enoch and Emma were so thick, it was a wonder no one was suffocating because of it. Even Jacob seemed a little antsy, despite it being his idea.

"Enoch? You there?" Jacob called, knocking on the door to Olive's and Enoch's room one day. He blinked when he saw Olive there instead of Enoch, but quickly managed his trademark polite smile. He had been gone for a few days and just returned the other day from doing a few errands Miss Peregrine told him too. "Oh, hi. Sorry to bother you, Olive. Have you seen Enoch anywhere? Miss P is asking for him."

"No," Olive answered stiffly, eyeing the spot on their shared bed that Enoch had left early in the morning. "I haven't seen him since last night. He wasn't even at breakfast, remember."

It had been two weeks since they first started their lesson on controlling her fire, and Olive noticed that each morning, Enoch would leave her and wouldn't come back late in the evening when they would continue on their lesson. For obvious reasons, it worried Olive a lot. But she couldn't determine what exactly was wrong with her necromancer. Every time she wanted to ask him about it, she always lost the guts to do it, especially when she noticed how tired he seemed after each session. She couldn't blame him though. The amount of time she set him on fire was worrying that more than once Olive wanted to tell on Miss Peregrine. But Enoch always managed to convince her that everything was fine, so she agreed to go along with it. Not to mention, she did get better at controlling her powers. She no longer burned him, except when she was caught off guard. So, things did seem to be going well after all.

"…you know? Um, Olive? Were you listening?" Jacob asked, cutting short Olive's train of thoughts.

"Sorry. I got a lot on my mind," Olive said sheepishly. "You were saying?"

Jacob tilted her head to the side, with a knowing look in his startling blue eyes, and it reminded Olive greatly of how Abe used to look at her in the same way whenever he caught her watching Enoch from afar. Back then, Olive used to be close with Abe because he was the only one who didn't judge her for falling for someone like Enoch. Probably that was why Enoch disliked him so much, if what he said regarding his feelings toward Olive was true. Now, with Jacob, the pyromancer tried to be more careful, knowing how possessive Enoch could be. In the end, it resulted to minimum conversation between Jacob and herself. But she had always felt closer to him, and maybe that was because he shared so much similarities with his grandfather.

"I uh, I know I'm not Emma," the raven-haired said awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "But Emma's helping the girls tidying around the ship, and I can... If you want me to, I'm more than willing to hear what's bothering you. I can't give good advice like Emma does, though."

"It's okay," Olive said, laughing a little. "Sometimes an ear is all you need."

Jacob smiled and took a seat beside Olive when she scooted over for him. He testily grabbed for her hand in a supportive manner, and Olive was surprised at how the gesture seemed to scream Abe Portman. Turning around, she found his blue eyes had found hers first, and he was looking at her in worry. It was not for the first time that she noticed how tall he was, even taller than her towering necromancer. He grasped her hand gently, urging her to tell him what was bothering her. Taking a deep breath, she finally did.

"You can't tell _anyone_ yet, but Enoch's been helping me to learn how to control my powers," Olive began. When Jacob kept quiet, giving his silent promise, the ginger continued. "At first, everything seemed to be going well. It took sometime, but after awhile, I managed to hold my fire in. But then I began to notice that if he wasn't helping me with our lesson, he would avoid me, like today. He wouldn't even let me help him doing his projects anymore. I keep on thinking about what I did wrong, but I always come up with nothing. A-and I'm afraid he just…he just stops caring. That he has second thoughts after all. That h-he…that he…"

Olive didn't even realise when she started crying until she felt Jacob pulled her into a hug, and let her to cry her eyes out on his shoulder. "I understand your fear, Olive. The guy ignored you for over seven decades after all, treated you horribly too. But, we all know that's because he has problems showing affections. So, I doubt that it's true. I mean, you didn't see him when he talked to Emma. That man down there was perfectly fine to _die_ because he knew he'd lost his chance with you. I don't think he's letting you go anytime soon, Olive."

"B-but why – "

"He's right," a voice said, and the two friends pulled apart, finding the necromancer himself standing by the door, his eyes devoid of emotion. "I'm not letting you go, Olive. Not now. Not ever. Period."

Olive looked at him, with tears still falling profusely from her eyes. She vaguely heard Jacob excused himself, but both she and Enoch ignored him. When Enoch entered the room, shutting the door behind him, it was for the first time in weeks that Olive noticed that there _was_ something wrong with him. She never really took notice of him during their lesson, seeing that the cooler room was rather dimly lit, and Enoch preferred the lights were out when they slept. But now, Olive could see what she'd missed for weeks. Enoch was never as stocky as Victor was, but he wasn't as lanky as Jacob either. He was always somewhere in between. But now, standing in front of her, he looked even thinner than Jacob. His face was sunken, making his jaw and cheekbones more pronounced than ever. The circles under his eyes made his eyes looked abnormally bigger, almost as big as Emma's. But the worst part was, the part that scared her the most, was how he didn't seem to be able to hold himself on his feet. Even as he brought himself closer toward her, it looked like every stepped he took was giving him a lot of pain. When he dropped unceremoniously on his knees in front of her on the edge of their shared bed, Olive let out a small shriek, thinking that he was going to faint. Warning bells began to sound in her head, and Olive knew that there was _something_ she should have known, but she couldn't, for the life of her, know _what_ it was.

"Enoch, love," Olive whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "Enoch, tell me what's wrong. Why are you… What _happened_ to you?"

"'M fine," he said, giving her a small smile before leaning forward to kiss her. He frowned when Olive turned her head slightly. "Are you mad with me? Because I haven't really been around?"

"I'm _worried,_ you numptie," Olive said, rolling her eyes despite the situation. "Honestly, won't you just tell me what's wrong with you? You look like… Like you're…"

"I'm fine," he repeated, before going forward to kiss her again. This time, she let him because she too missed him. _A lot._ But when Enoch began to push her forward to lie on the bed, she pushed him away gently.

"Enoch, what are you doing?"

"Hm?" he hummed absentmindedly, one hand reaching forward to play with her hair. "Don't you want _this_ , Olive? I thought you wanted it."

"I do, but – " slapping Enoch's hand away when he tried to pull her gloves off. " – I'm still not sure I can control it. Besides, you don't look well enough for…for such strenuous activity."

Olive eyes widened when Enoch let out a sound that sounded far too close to giggling. He gave a peck on her kiss once, and there was a grin that she rarely saw on his face. "You're hurting my ego, my dear. Really, you _wound_ me."

"Enoch, I'm serious!"

"So, am I," he said, and this time, he did look like he meant it. "I trust you, my love. I trust you with all my heart, my life, and my soul. Even if you end up killing me – "

" _Enoch,"_ Olive began in a warning tone, but Enoch lifted one hand up to silence her.

" – even if you _do_ end up killing me, then I'll die with a smile on my face. I've been cold for so long, searching for the warmth and light that only you can provide, my dear, and if I have to die because of your fiery fire, then so be it."

Olive looked into his brown eyes, saw all the earnest love and adoration in his eyes, saw that he was telling the truth. If she was to be honest, she'd been thinking about it for the past couple of days since she realised she had better grip on her powers. But there was something that always seemed to hold her back. Even now, when Enoch begged her for it, she still felt like she shouldn't have done it. But the way Enoch's eyes pleaded for her to relent was slowly breaking her resolution, like he always did. In the end, she took her gloves off and threw it across the room. The blinding bright smile on Enoch's face was enough to erase all doubts in her head as he dipped his head lower to kiss her deeply and passionately.

"I love you, Olive," he whispered between kisses. "I love you now, forever, and always."

* * *

 _"You have so many scars," Olive said sadly that night after their wonderful love-making. She was tracing the numerous scars on Enoch's back, who was lying sleepily with face buried into his pillow._

 _"Do you love me less because of them?" Enoch asked, his tone as emotionless as always as he turned around. But if one listened more carefully, they could hear the worry in his voice._

 _"Of course not," the ginger said, settling herself to lay her head on his chest, giving a gentle kiss on where his heart resided. "I love you_ more _because of them."_

Olive blinked, snapping out of her thoughts, when she heard someone dragged a chair beside her. Without turning around, she knew it must be Bronwyn. If there was anyone who was just as devastated as she was, it would be the girl with incredibly strength. After all, Bronwyn had accompanied her for the past two months when everyone else felt too awkward to come up to her. Even Emma, her best friend, who she knew was blaming herself, even though Olive kept on telling her that it wasn't her fault, couldn't find it in her to sit beside her. Olive lost count how many times she told Emma that if there was _anyone_ to be blamed, it would be Olive herself. Emma wouldn't listen to her though, and she ended up avoiding Olive in her guilt. But Bronwyn, she was different. She was as stubborn as her brother was, if not more. Although they never said a word during the hours they spent together sitting in silence, Olive was grateful for her presence. True, she still preferred the solitude nowadays. But deep down, she realised she would go mad if she spent it alone, staring at _his_ unmoving form lying on their bed.

At _Enoch's_ unmoving form lying on their bed, looking more dead than that time he truly died.

* * *

Olive woke up that morning with a huge smile on her face, feeling sore but happy nonetheless. It was a little over breakfast, and she hoped no one really noticed her and Enoch's absence yet. Turning to her side, she saw that Enoch was already awake, and he seemed like he'd been watching her sleep for who knew how long. His features were still as horrible as before, and Olive would have nagged him to talk to Miss Peregrine about it. But the sneaky prat silenced her with a mind-numbing kiss that made Olive incapable of coherent thoughts, and the cocky smirk on his face convinced Olive that maybe, he was just tired, and that Olive was just being paranoid. When they heard Claire called for them, saying that Miss Peregrine wanted to talk to them and Jacob and Emma, the two quickly got ready, knowing that if they were late, Miss Peregrine herself would come barging into the room. The whole time she was getting ready, Olive did it without her gloves, and she was so proud of herself when she didn't set anything on fire. If there was anyone who was prouder than herself, it would be Enoch. Going to the ballroom where they usually had their meal, the two held hands all the way there with identical smiles on their faces. But the moment they reached the ballroom, and saw that there was _someone_ there other than Miss Peregrine and their two friends, Enoch's smile faltered and turned into an unpleasant scowl.

"Well, well," Enoch drawled sarcastically at the figure sitting across the Bird with sitting by his side. Emma, Olive noted, was sitting on the farthest seat in the room, glaring into her hands. "Look who's _finally_ graced us with his presence after seventy-three years. What, you're getting bored with your life already, Abe?"

"Hello, Enoch," Abe Portman said, his aging face looked both defiant and amused as he looked back at the necromancer. "I see that you haven't changed one bit. Still as _pleasant_ as ever after all these years, it seems."

It was never a secret between everyone that Enoch had never liked Abe. They used to get along, when Abe first came to the mansion. But Enoch turned vindictive and awful when he noticed how Emma _and_ Olive got along really well in a really short period of time with him, and everyone knew Enoch was possessive. The only person who kind of shared his sentiment toward the Polack was Victor, and that was because he was paranoid that someone would take over his place in his sister's eyes. When Abe left, leaving Emma heartbroken, it just sealed Enoch's dislike toward him. The feeling was mutual though, because Abe seemed to return the feeling wholeheartedly, whose smart-mouth and stubbornness was so different than Jacob's quiet and reserved nature. Now, seventy-three years later, it didn't seem that both had changed their minds about each other. Olive lightly warmed Enoch's hand as a warning, to which he replied with a murderous glare. But, she merely glanced at him with a deceptive blank look, and because Enoch could be the most petty human being on Earth, especially when he was irked, he decided that he would ignore the warning.

"How's aging been for you, _old man_? All those wrinkles suit you, by the way."

"Enoch, behave!" Olive hissed, slapping him on his shoulder. Enoch rolled his eyes in return.

"I'll behave however I want, Olive dear. But for you, I guess I'll make an exception. I'm _not_ staying a moment longer with him though," he quickly added when Olive began to grin. "I'm going out to buy some food. I think we're running out of stock. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Do you need help?" Jacob asked. Sweet and gentle Jacob, always so willing to help even thought it was obvious he preferred to spend his time with his grandfather.

Enoch, bless his soul, seemed to realise it as well because when he normally demanded Jacob to help him, now he politely shook his head. "No, you go catch up with your Grandpa, Jakey boy. I think I can manage by my own."

"I'll go with you," Emma said, making a sound for the first time since Olive and Enoch entered the room. "I'm not staying here either."

Enoch cocked an eye brow at her, to which Emma merely replied with a defiant tilt of her head. Luckily, the necromancer said nothing else, and nodded his head at Emma so she would follow him. Olive could feel Jacob sagged in his seat, and she smiled sympathetically in his way, knowing just how much he wished Emma and his grandfather would get along.

"Well, some things _do_ change, it seems," Abe commented once the two friends disappeared. "I never thought I'd be able to see a time where Enoch O'Connor listened to _anyone_ that easily. I guess, it's all thanks to you, isn't it, Olive?"

"Abe!" Olive greeted, quickly putting her gloves back on just to be safe, before hugging the old man. "It's _so good_ to see you, old friend. It's been too long."

"Good to see you too, Livvy," Abe said, chuckling as he stroked the girl's hair. "How's everything, my friend? I trust all is well with you being the only sane one here to help Miss P."

Olive chuckled, settling herself beside Miss Peregrine. They talked about what had been to their lives for the decades. Then Miss Peregrine told her to go get the other children sometime near lunch time, and it was only then did Olive remember she and Enoch hadn't eaten since morning. With Fiona's and Jacob's help, she began to serve lunch for everyone, including Abe. The rest of the kids, especially the younger ones, yelled Abe's name in absolute excitement as they ran toward him. Olive noticed the old man grew teary eyed when Bronwyn, Claire and the Twins hugged him around the waist. It was only when they were about to sit, when Bronwyn pulled an extra chair for Abe, that Olive realised it had been around _six_ hours since Enoch left with Emma. Judging from the way Jacob and Miss Peregrine kept on moving restlessly in their seat, she knew that they too felt just as worried as she was. She was sort of thankful for the momentary distraction Abe provided when he asked her a question.

"So, Livvy," he said, using the old nickname that only he had ever used. "I noticed earlier that you were holding Enoch's hand without your gloves on. Does it mean that you can control your powers now?"

Olive blushed slightly when all eyes fell on her, especially when she felt Miss Peregrine's piercing stare. She cleared her throat nervously before she answered him. "In a way, yes. Enoch's been helping me to learn how to control it. We've been trying for quite sometime now, and although it wasn't easy at first, I finally got the hang of it."

"That's amazing!" Fiona exclaimed, nodding in excitement with Hugh and Millard.

"But, why are you wearing them now, Olive?" Claire asked. From the corner of her eye, Olive saw Miss Peregrine cocked her head to the side in a very bird-like manner, and it just made her even more nervous.

"Well um, Enoch's the first and only thing – I mean, _person,_ I touched without my gloves on. He believed that the reason I couldn't control my fire was because I feared it, and the only way I could learn to control it was to see whether I could control it when I had my hands on someone I…I love."

"Hang on," Jacob interrupted, looking shocked even though he knew already about Olive's little session with Enoch. "Are you saying that he volunteered to get burnt _thousands_ of times until you could stop yourself from setting him on fire?"

"Yes," Olive said, her face flushed furiously, going almost as red as her hair. "I didn't immediately agree to it though. I only said yes when he revealed to me that he could heal himself. Even then, I sometimes still felt like it was wrong."

"Wow," Millard whistled, and if he was visible, Olive knew he'd look amazed. "I didn't know Enoch could do that."

"That's because he _shouldn't_ ," Miss Peregrine said in a sharp tone, causing everyone except Abe, who had paled a little, to flinch. "Heavens, now I _know_ why he's been looking awful lately."

"Wait," Olive said, feeling her heart beat quickened. "What do you mean by 'he shouldn't'?"

"He _shouldn't_ heal himself, at least not for serious injuries," Abe said, sharing a look with the headmistress before continuing his explanation. "Enoch's Peculiarity is one of the rarest kinds in this world, like myself and Jacob, or like Miss Peregrine. Therefore, there some downside to his Peculiarity. Ymbrynes are obvious. You know what happened already when their powers were taken for heinous plans. Mine and Jacob's Peculiarity is the rarest, because it only developed ever since the first existence of the Hollows. Enoch's though, it was a little bit different. His powers come from his life, so whenever he uses his powers, that means he uses his life-force in favour of his powers."

"That's why I always make a fuss when he's spent too much time with his clay," Miss Peregrine said. "Healing himself is pretty much the same thing as animating objects. Maybe it doesn't use much of his life-force, but when he uses it continuously…" She bit her lip, eyeing Olive closely. "How long exactly have you been learning to control it?"

"Two months," Olive whispered, her insides felt cold.

"And you did this every day?"

The ginger nodded her head. "Every afternoon at 5, once we were done with all chores. We only stopped shortly before dinner."

Everyone fell silent, and Olive felt guilty. She _knew_ she shouldn't have agreed when Enoch suggested it, but she was too selfish. If this meant that she would end up losing him, Olive swore she would pitch herself off the ship and into the ocean. It didn't help that everyone realised it had been hours since Enoch and Emma left, and the two hadn't come back yet. When Jacob suggested that he and Olive better went to check on them, Miss Peregrine flat out refused, saying that she couldn't afford losing anymore of her children, and that it would be better if she was the one who went to look for them. They had never seen Jacob argued Miss Peregrine before. It was always Millard, and sometimes Enoch. But they didn't have the energy left to feel surprised when the ymbryn and her charge went back and forth about who was supposed to go. Olive was about to sneak out herself, knowing that the two would be two busy arguing, when suddenly, Emma came _literally_ flying through the windows, landing harshly on the wooden floor.

 _"Emma!"_ everyone yelled, running to her side. The right-sleeve of her dress was torn, and her blonde hair was matted with blood. But she didn't seem to care about her injuries.

"Olive, I'm _sorry!_ " she whispered as she rushed toward the ginger, collapsing in Olive's arms. "I am _really_ sorry. Oh, please forgive me…"

"Emma, what are you talking about?" Jacob said, quickly wrapping his hands around his girl so he could hold her. "Are you okay? Where's Enoch?"

Even before Jacob had even asked her all those questions, Olive already knew what was her answer.

 _"They got him! The remaining of Barron's lot got Enoch!"_

* * *

According to Emma, they were just about to finish their shopping when Wights ambushed them. They both put up quite a fight, that was until someone hit Emma in the head, which rendered her unconscious. When she woke up, she found herself in an old factory, bound to an unconscious Enoch. It took her a few tries to wake him up, and even then, he seemed extremely weak. He asked her whether she still had her lead-shoes on, and when she replied in the affirmative, he told her to reach for the small button located on her right heel. Unbeknownst to many, Enoch was the one who made Emma's shoes, with instructions from their beloved headmistress. So, Emma wasn't entirely too shocked to find a secret compartment in the heel of her shoe, where a small blade, not much bigger than her ring-finger, was stored. The blonde used the blade to untie herself and Enoch, but when she tried to take Enoch with her to leave, the necromancer vehemently refused, saying that he would only slow her down. Emma insisted that she wouldn't leave without him, but Enoch was just as stubborn as she was.

"I can carry you!" Emma had nearly yelled in frustration. "No offense, but you're thin enough for me to be able to carry you out of here myself, Enoch. So, zip it and just get on my back."

"Like hell I would," the boy said angrily, even if his voice was no more than a tired whispered. "You go on, tell Miss P to take the others and leave. They _want_ her, Emma. They want Miss Peregrine. We can't let them have her."

"So, you want me to _leave_ you?" Emma said, her heart felt like stopping. When Enoch said nothing, her infamous temper flared and it took all her will power to stop herself from slapping him. "What the _hell_ do you mean, O'Connor? I am _not_ leaving you here! Come on, we can still make it. Just – ""

"Emma. Emma. _Emma!"_ Enoch snapped, cutting the blonde mid-sentence. Emma was about to argue some more when he pushed a heavy object made of metal into her hand. "Listen to me carefully, okay? I want you to get away from here – _no, don't interrupt me!_ I want you to get away from here, and warn the others about the Wights' planned to capture Miss Peregrine. We're not that far from our ship, I think. Then you take off your shoes because it'll be much faster if you float. Press that button on this magnet first though. It's strong enough to keep you down as long as you're close toward something made of metal, no matter how small it is. But you have to be careful. If you run out of metal on the way to the ship, you'll float away. Do you understand me so far, Em?"

"Yes, but – "

"Once you get close enough, preferably when you hover atop the ship, press this other button so the magnet-force will pull you down. It's going to be a powerful jolt though, so make sure you're ready. If it's possible to rescue me, and _only_ if it's possible, you come back here sometime before dawn, when the Wights are still asleep. And _don't_ bring Olive with you. Just take Portman and that's it."

Emma told Olive how she eyed the metal object in her hand for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. "You know that once Olive found out they got you here, she'd probably set the whole world on fire to rescue you. I can't possibly stop her, Enoch. If it were Jacob, I'd probably do the same thing."

"I know," and the way he said, the dejected yet solemn tone he had, was like warning bells in Emma's head, telling her that Enoch didn't see himself walking out from all of it alive. "That's why you have to make sure she's not coming."

The two didn't waste another moment because Enoch had ushered Emma to get going. From the moment she landed on the ship that afternoon, the girl tried her best to control herself so she could tell everything that had happened. The whole time Olive listened to her story, the pyromancer was all silent. But on the inside, she was burning in fury. Emma was right. Olive would tear the world apart and set it ablaze to save Enoch, no matter what the consequences were. It was only because Bronwyn noticed her gloves were smoking that she realised she was slowly setting herself on fire in her anger. Everyone was staring at her, watching her reaction closely as if they were worried that in her rage, she would accidentally let loose of her fire. But Olive had enough of practice, and her anger was enough motivation for her to control her power completely. Yanking her gloves off her hand, she told Miss Peregrine that she would go save Enoch, with or without her permission. From the looks of her face, the Bird seemed conflicted on whether she should allow her or went to sacrifce herself. But Abe, wise as he always was, convinced the Bird that the kids could more than take care of themselves, seeing that they _did_ rescue her before. Once it was settled that the ones who were going to rescue Enoch were Olive, Emma, and Jacob, the trio left to go back to the factory, leaving the rest of the kids with Abe and Miss Peregrine.

Olive felt like exploding, sparks of fire were dancing in fingertips, waiting to be released. The factory was huge, but it didn't take them long to find where the Wights kept Enoch. Unfortunately for them – or maybe for the Wights, depending how you saw it – the scene they walked in was of the Wights trying to get the information regarding the whereabouts of Miss Peregrine by torturing Enoch. Olive had no idea how long she froze as she watched a Wight used pliers to pluck out Enoch's nails, her eyes set on the bleeding and swelling face of her beloved, her ears ringing at the sound of his screams. But the next time she blinked, it was as if there was a switch on her. She barely gave enough time for her two companions to go save Enoch when she thrust her palm forward, shooting fireballs toward the Wight with the pliers. There was seven Wights in total, and long story short, Olive set them all on fire like meat for barbecue. When she saw Jacob and Emma were holding an unconscious Enoch between them, taking him out of the factory, she set the whole place on fire before she followed them out.

By the time they got back to the ship, Enoch's breathing had gone ragged and his heartbeat was weak. He was missing _seven_ of his nails, and his face barely recognisable anymore, even after they'd cleaned all the blood. It was obvious that his condition was critical, but they couldn't risk taking him to the hospital, lest they'd start asking questions. They had no choice but to settle with tending to his fingers and face, making sure he was well taken care of, even if they spent each second wondering whether this time, Enoch would simply give up and… _move on._ When Abe left a week later, he promised that he would bring back all medication he could get his hands on that hopefully could help Enoch. He came back nearly a month later, with Jacob carrying a huge suitcase filled with all kinds of medicines. But whatever they tried to put into Enoch's system didn't seem to work. In fact, Olive started to worry that all those medicines were cancelling out on each other. But she wasn't giving up on him yet, even if she gave up on all the modern medication. So, for the next two months, she spent all her time cooped in the room she shared with Enoch, each day wishing for him to open his eyes and give her his rare smile again. She'd even accept him scolding her for crying over him, if that meant she could hear him talk again.

 _("Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived her whole life alone," Olive's mother once read a story to both of her daughters, back when Olive and Viola were little. "She never cursed her life about the unfairness that she kept on dealing with, never regretted the fact that even her own parents abandoned her. One day, she met a boy with sad brown eyes, who was just as lonely as she was. The two fell in love and although not everything was easy for them, they managed to get by it. But then the sad boy was cruelly taken from the lonely girl, and only then did the girl began to hate her life. So, when she couldn't take it anymore, she decided that she would follow the boy._ _Because really, her life would be nothing without him.")_

 _(Little did Olive know, the girl in the story would one day remind her of herself.)_

* * *

"Hey," Olive whispered on the eighty-fourth day. She reached for his bandaged left hand, holding it firmly in her smaller ones. "It's almost three months now, Enoch. I miss you. I miss _so much_. Please, wake up. I beg you."

Her green eyes kept on a close watch at Enoch's face, expecting her to open his eyes anytime. But, as it had always been for the past two months, he didn't react. Sighing tiredly, she gave his hand a gentle kiss before she continued with her routine of talking to him about her day. Jacob once told her that someone who was comatose would wake up much easier and sooner if they were being spoken to on a daily basis. That was exactly what Olive had been doing for months. Only this time, she didn't tell him about her day. She told him about her past.

"I used to have a twin, you know," she began. "Her name was Viola. She looked nothing like me, but I loved her. She had brown hair and brown eyes, and she was the pretty one out of the two of us. My parents loved her more than they loved me, but it didn't matter to me. As long as we had each other, nothing else mattered. You see, Viola was the first and only one who knew about my power, even before my parents. She was my saviour way before you came into the picture. To be honest, she was a lot like Emma in a way. Same stubbornness, same fierceness, same bravery. Probably that was why I got along really well with her. She reminded me a lot of my twin."

She imagined Enoch tilting his head to the side in his usual way when he wanted her to continue her story, so she did. "I fell asleep one day, and somehow my glove rolled off my hand. I ended up setting the whole house on fire. My father was too busy rescuing me when he was supposed to be saving my sister instead. I know that when my parents sold me to the circus it was because they blamed me for my sister's death. And I _know_ it's my fault. I blame myself too _every single day_ for the past seventy-five years. If I was more careful, she wouldn't be dead."

Olive stopped for awhile when she felt Enoch's hand twitched in her grip. But after she waited for a few minutes, she knew she must be imagining it. "So, you were right when you said that I'm scare of my powers, because I _am._ It was _my_ fire that killed my sister. I've all the reason to be afraid of it. But, thanks to you, I can now control it. I get even better now. You should see me do the trick for the kids. You'll love it."

For some reason, the thought that Enoch wouldn't be around to see her doing tricks with her fire brought tears to her eyes. Before she knew it, she was sobbing hard, tears falling down onto her clasped hands profusely. "Enoch, I understand if you feel too tired already, if you feel like moving on. A century isn't exactly a short time, and your life hasn't been a walk in the park either. But please, Enoch, _wake up._ I… I've lost my sister once, and I don't I can make it if I lose you too. Don't leave me, Enoch, _please…_ I can't imagine myself living alone without you by my side. You might be so ready to die, but I am _not_ ready for you to leave me yet. So, come back, Enoch. Come back to me, my love."

She leaned forward to give her a soft, gentle kiss. When she looked up, she was half-expecting Enoch to open his eyes, hoping that her kiss would be enough to wake him up like in stories. But when she saw that Enoch lay just as unmoving as he had been for the past two months, she knew she was being silly. Only in fairytales would _true love's kiss_ be able to wake someone up from after months of spending it in a state of comatose. In reality, especially in _Olive's_ reality, there was no such things as kisses that would wake dying people up. In her reality, people died, and then they left her all alone. Still with tears falling down her face, Olive suddenly felt like she was too tired, she felt like sleeping into the next century. Pushing Enoch to the side as gently as she could, the pyromancer then lay beside him, her head on his chest where his heart was so she could listen to his beat. It was still beating, and the sound sounded more beautiful than that piece Miss Peregrine used to play back at the mansion. But Olive had no idea how long would his heart stay beating.

"I love you, Enoch," she whispered as she felt herself falling into a deep and much needed slumber. "I love you now, forever, and always."

* * *

 _She had no idea how long she'd been asleep. It could have been an hour, a day, or probably a year. The truth was, she didn't care. Not at all. But she remembered being awaken to the feeling of soft fabric crossing her collar bone, felt long fingers caressed her cheek softly. The lights were dim in that room, as it had always been because that was how he liked it. Her eyes were glazed with sleep, but she forced herself to pry them opened, knowing that she would regret it if she didn't._

 _She raised her head barely an inch off his chest, reluctant to leave the sound of his heart beating underneath her ears. The side of her face that was pressed against his chest was red, and it felt a little numb from the time it spent lying down for so long. She felt a cool hand on cheek, the same hand that she'd been dreaming of to touch her again for the past two months, and she recognised it immediately. After all, she'd spent_ months _memorising the pattern of his fingers on her skin, of his gentle and loving touch, despite his coarse mannerism._

 _"Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long, love," he said, smiling that beautiful smile he only reserved for her. "But I promised you that I wouldn't_ ever _leave you, and I'm keeping that promise."_

 _Green eyes met brown ones, and she burst into tears of happiness._

* * *

 **NOTES 2:** And nope, they're not dead. I repeat, in case some of you don't understand it, Enoch and Olive are _not_ dead. They're both alive yippie!


End file.
